


No Mystical Design

by becausehiships, kbvibes



Series: Hedwig Verse [3]
Category: CrissColfer - Fandom, Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:59:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3565484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becausehiships/pseuds/becausehiships, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbvibes/pseuds/kbvibes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Darren are finally starting to find themselves and each other in a new place and time. They'll take the pieces off the ground and show the world something beautiful and new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We are back! No Mystical Design is a collection of one-shots that kbvibes and I are writing that take a look in the future. This particular one-shot takes place during the Hedwig performance directly following the last chapter of Follow My Voice. I suggest you read FMV first and then dabble back and forth between the one-shots from a look into the future (No Mystical Design) and the one-shots from the past (Stranger’s Always You). And of course, enjoy, and let us know what you think!
> 
> Chapter: The one where they are finally boyfriends.

_“Look what you’ve done…”_

Yitzhak wows the audience with his fluid range after Hedwig stumbles away distraught and lonelier than she’s ever been seen up until this point. Chris has memorized the show by now; scene for scene, note for note. If he wanted, he could close his eyes and silently mouth all the words. He could see all the actions play out in order in his head. But right now Chris can’t close his eyes because he feels the irresistible need to watch Darren. _Hedwig._ Somehow the character and Darren are interchangeable tonight, merged into one being, as if even more of Darren’s mannerisms are bleeding through and begging to be noticed. Bits and pieces of the man beneath the makeup and the glitter screaming through for recognition. Chris’ recognition. He’s different tonight, the transformation every bit as magical, but in a more vulnerable sense that shows in Darren’s eyes. It’s more of a desperate confidence tonight, rather than a durable certainty that exudes the thickness of a wall separating two parts of one city. There’s not an ounce of courage in Darren’s body right now and Chris is worried that it’s because their verbal warfare had gone too far last night.

Not many people would be able to tell the difference between Darren and Hedwig; they don’t know either well. He’s just acting, they’d say. It’s a tribute to how well Chris has relearned his _boyfriend_ (the benign term leaves a strange, bittersweet taste in his mouth, even when it’s only spoken in his own head) in these past few weeks, even if the term _boyfriend_ had only been used for the first time ever about twelve hours ago. The conversation last night and into the early morning clearly wrecked Darren as it did Chris, even if it ended in reassurance and the epitome of optimistic longing. For the first time in years, they woke up this morning to each other, naked and slick, seemingly completed and jammed together ( _a fork shoved on a spoon_ ) in a connection that they should all but write home about. But now, Chris isn’t so convinced that this is working, if the authentic tears streaming down Darren’s face are any indication. 

_“I didn’t want to know…”_

Chris recognized a long time ago that Darren wasn’t ready to be completely open about himself. His virtue, that playful but fragile earnestness about him that everyone in the world loves... it was compromised with every invasive question with every single interview. Even if Darren turns out to be wholly homosexual and not just some weird, progressive, San Francisco kid variation of it, Chris knows that through his acting, Darren could still pull nearly any role off. Gay, straight, confusing gradients in-between. Because he’s lived a quadruple life ever since people came along and told him what not to be. He has already walked a mile in each one of those sets of shoes, long before he even strapped on his glittery heels. 

Darren’s a great actor; he grasps his craft by the balls and beats it to the full extent of the required emotion. He’s spent more than half his life locked up inside his own imagination and projecting what he wants others to outwardly see, and that’s the reason why he’s so good. 

Chris knows why Darren did it. 

Chris pretended once to be attracted to girls before. In high school, it was so often safer being someone you are not. So, his best friend was his beard for the entirety of their freshman year and then one day he woke up and didn’t want to lie anymore. 

Although he understands _why_ , Chris doesn’t understand how. He has no idea how Darren had been content with the lies and secrets, especially since Clovis, California is a drop in the ocean and Hollywood is the entire Pacific.

But Darren. He has been faking it for years with relative ease, at least to the naked eye. Anyone else would think it never phased him, never was even a concern on his plate. But Chris sees the cracks in Darren’s self-assurance. More than that, he knows how much someone like Darren, who thrives so much on human emotion and reaction, must be regretting it a little more every day with every half truth he forces into every interaction with the member of the press. 

What they want now: to actually _be_ out together… it will change everything. Once people start to notice Chris and Darren as they are, Kurt and Blaine will be dug up out of their bedazzled little graves and over-analyzed until there’s not one stone unturned. The mysterious aura that has always floated just beneath the surface will sprout wings and fly; Tumblr will produce theories and over exaggerations of when the on-screen figure was Darren and when it was Blaine. That will offend Darren; Chris has no doubt. Their fans won’t assume that Chris ruined any chance at a “normal” life, but the rest of the world will and Chris is terrified of the backlash and blame. Of the _scrutiny_ … He wishes he could make like an actual bird and fly far, far away.

Darren will definitely not see it this way, but acting is exactly what he had been doing whenever the camera wasn’t rolling, whenever the paparazzi wasn’t following them on set. He’s a reverse actor. Chris smiles to himself, careful to not come off as insensitive during such an exposed, emotionally raw moment in the show. He couldn’t tear his eyes away if he tried. He makes a mental note to suggest that they do something fun later, if only to pull them both out from underneath this massive black cloud that he is enveloped in just from watching and listening to the pain Darren pours out on the stage.

It’s like he’s swimming against the tide, waves lapping over his head and all he can do is keep treading water with his arms and legs for the sake of survival.

_“A walk on role in the script…”_

The pink and purple stage lights glimmer across his wet skin when Darren convulses in a silent sob, now. Right before Chris’ eyes, Darren’s face contorts - his shoulders visibly shake and it doesn’t seem like he’s able to catch his breath. He’s drowning too.

_He can’t breathe. Oh God, he can’t breathe._

He knows the feeling well and it causes an echo of that vicious tightness to wrap around Chris’ lungs like a snake made out of ice. Chris does everything physically possible to keep himself in his theatre seat and not allow his legs to race down the aisle and onto the stage to take Darren’s paint-streaked cheeks between his hands and kiss his _boyfriend (oh, God)_ senselessly, fixing each rip and tear from his mouth inward. 

Glittery sweat and tears form a sort of gluey mask plastered to Darren’s face. He’s ethereal and tortured, breathtaking in all of it, even when the pain shouldn’t be. Chris feels absolutely fucking helpless. There’s nothing he could do but wish on all his lucky stars that Darren can physically get through the scene and even if he does, Chris isn’t sure that he could himself. 

Darren takes a breath, and then another, recovering with only a single crack. It takes Chris longer to even out his own breathing and heartbeat as he stares at Darren shattering in front of him. They’re connected now more than they’d ever been and this song is solid proof. When Darren hurts, Chris hurts. Isn’t that how it should be when two people are sewing themselves back together?

Their talk in the middle of the night last night turned into a monologue of Darren’s modified list of hopes and dreams, alongside Chris’ own worries and long term plans. One of Darren’s wistful yearnings was a deep seeded need to be respected by the Broadway crowd. Chris knows that Darren’s having a hard time with his fellow cast mates. To them, he comes off as a privileged prince of television; He’s too green, too young, too untested for this kind of role. He waltzed in and got it for his status. _Glee_ is not the most reputable experience compared to these real-life Rachel Berrys. 

Chris watches as Darren struggles to retain composure. He’s not supposed to be crying this hard; he’s not supposed to be crying at all. He’s supposed to be singing backup, but instead he’s curled up next to the car, shut in on himself. The show still has nearly three full songs left, including the goddamned reprise that Chris has coined as their own, and Chris isn’t sure if he’s able to even sit through this, much less take on the loves and losses.

That’s sort of what it is, isn’t it?

_“The love that had me in your grip…”_

This sounds like a break up song, delivered with a feeling that makes the organs deep inside Chris’ body knot and twist. He fears Darren is wordlessly telling him to keep the hell away. Darren’s curled into a ball, crouching over his legs and hugging at his knees. His face, currently being half-hidden away in his kneecaps, is blotchy and red. This isn’t about Hedwig’s story. Chris can hear the screaming in between the notes that tells him this is, at least partially, about them.

Darren had been absolutely right the night before. Chris isn’t the only one allowed to be fucking terrified of what it will mean to go from a constant, stinging, almost aching idea of a _them,_ into a sudden and new reality. Are they ready for that? And God, is Darren? The huddled, wailing creature on the stage in front of him sort of proves otherwise. Chris doesn’t know if the entire wicked world is willing to let this happen or not. It was so much easier to view things through optimistic eyes when it only existed safely inside the plaster and exposed brick walls of Darren’s apartment. 

The first squeal of notice to _Chris Colfer_ comes as soon as the lights are up. The crowd of people trying to get out of the theatre to get the best spot at the stage door is quickly switched to get a glimpse of the one person they’d never expect to see here _again_. He smiles with a tight twist of his lips that comes off more like a grimace, waving distractedly. His mind is already backstage with Darren. After a quick assessment of the crowd and the exits, Chris quickly figures out that the only way to the front-side stage door is to climb over the chairs. He’s sure he looks like a crazy, unstable mess, but doesn’t pay any mind to the flashing iPhone cameras or the mumbles of _what the hell is he doing._

He’s out of breath by the time he is standing in front of the guard at the door, shoulders slouched and nearly hyperventilating. “H-hi. Yeah, I’m-”

“Mr. Criss’ boyfriend. Go ahead.”

Chris blinks rapidly, stunned and frozen to the spot as the door is held open for him. It’s not that the words are in a language he doesn’t speak, it’s just that hearing them stated so frankly makes Chris feel dizzy and like the room has suddenly had every ounce of oxygen vacuumed out of it. Clearly Darren isn’t quite as unsure or “careful” as he may have thought. He has to forcibly make himself stand up straighter and nod. Chris slips through the open door just as the last camera flashes out of the corner of his eye. 

He pauses in front of Darren’s closed dressing room door, looking up at the honest-to-god gold star below his full name. Tracing over it with his finger twice, Chris takes just a few seconds to pause and recollect his thoughts. He has a good idea of the general state of what he’s about to walk into; Darren’s never been great at cleaning up his own messy emotions. At the best of times, Darren has always felt a certain amount of bleed-through from whatever his character might be feeling. It’s just the kind of actor that he is. But what Chris has seen on stage tonight was way more than that. He is about to walk into a full fledged storm. Whatever Darren was battling tonight, at least he wouldn’t have to face it alone. Chris is here now. He knocks.

“Yeah? Chris?” It comes out more of a hopeful squeak than anything else. Chris takes it as a prompt to peek in, so he does. 

Darren’s hunched over similarly to how Hedwig was three songs ago. His face is puffy and tired down to the bare bones, pitiful and drained, still fully affected by the damn grifter who broke his heart in the show. He lifts his head off his knees and rises from the chair in the corner of the room when he must realize that it would only be Chris coming back here to check on him.

“Hey.” Chris starts to approach him slowly, careful measured steps like one would take towards an animal they didn’t want to spook away. It lasts for all of three steps before Darren launches himself across the dressing room and collides into Chris’ body with the force of a freight train. 

Chris needs to brace himself extra carefully so they don’t topple over each other and cause a scene on top of forty-fourth street.

“Thank _fuck_ that’s over.” Darren’s words are muffled against Chris’ shoulder, as he rubs his face back and forth over the white material, ruining the _Prada_ shirt with a multicolored mess of stage makeup, sweat, and most likely snot and tears. Chris rests his hands against the small of Darren’s bare back and pulls him closer. Darren’s forgotten mic pack digs into Chris’ wrists.

Chris bites his lip and stares out into a spot on the wall in front of him. Minutes are suddenly gone, ticking by as their world returns to its axis with Darren’s touch. He counts unsteady breaths, heartbeats, the scraping sound of Darren’s slight stubble and eyelashes against the fabric of his shirt. Chris can feel when the adrenaline slumps from Darren’s body, the sweat on his skin cooling and causing goosebumps to spring up over his chest and arms. 

“What happened out there, Dare?”

“Just wanna go home. Can we go?” Darren breaks away and gathers his phone and worn sheet music from the vanity. He twists down and backward to collect the pair of spare gold heels, laces already tied together and ready to go. 

Chris feels his lips pull upwards around the edges. “Like that? As much as I admire you in those shorts, I think the whole of New York would need to pay a ticket price to see that kind of show.” He walks over and settles his hands on Darren’s waist until their eyes meet in the dressing room mirror. There’s a heady sense of deja vu about the image they make that causes Chris’ tongue to feel stupid and slow. “Are you really okay?”

“I will be once I’m away from here. I’m just… Chris, I’m really fucking tired. All of this, everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, it’s a lot to deal with. I want to go home, eat a shit ton of food that you’re going to tell me is bad for me, take a hot shower, and then die in a bed with you. How’s that plan sound to you?”

“I think most of it sounds doable. By the way, your little bodyguard guy knew me as Mister Criss’ boyfriend.” Chris hooks his chin on Darren’s shoulder and smiles softly. “Don’t be alarmed when you see pictures of me on Tumblr climbing over seats toward the front door. They would have never let me through.” Chris forcefully turns Darren around by his hipbones and reaches around him for a makeup remover wipe. “Let me...”

Darren nods, burning holes into Chris’ face with the most intense stare Chris has ever witnessed before in his life. Those burning-ember eyes look at him in searching a way that almost makes Chris want to run and hide behind the safety of his trusty walls, almost but not quite. Not anymore. He takes it upon himself to clean Darren’s face of the layers of makeup that didn’t make it to Chris’ shirt. He swallows hard around a Volkswagen-sized lump lodged in his throat, and he can’t look Darren in the eye; it’s too much. “Are you-”

“Don’t.”

“I just mean-”

“I already told you I want to do this. In fact, as long as you make me presentable enough, let’s leave together.”

“Like, through the stage door? Dare-”

“You don’t have to. I’d understand if you don’t want to. I can meet you later…”

Chris doesn’t allow himself to think about what a calamity it would be. It could be a complete disaster, being seen together in this way, all but twenty minutes after Darren virtually had a nervous breakdown on a Broadway stage with a thousand witnesses. But the thought of not having the warm weight of Darren’s fingers twisted through his for the rest of the night is even more frightening at this very moment. Chris knows what this means. This is an honest-to-god commitment. Fine, he’ll do it.

“I’ll do it.”

Darren’s eyebrows shoot up into the middle of his forehead like even though he was the one to suggest it, no one could be more shocked by Chris’ words. “Are you messing with me?”

It’s a lighter variation of the question Chris feels like Darren has been asking since the moment he first walked into this very dressing room two short weeks ago. He shakes his head and then leans forward to press his lips against the downturned corner of Darren’s mouth. It’s more of a brush of soft, damp skin against an unshaved, rougher top lip than a kiss, but it serves the purpose of sealing a promise nonetheless. 

“I’m not.”

“Okay.”

“There’s no turning back after this, though. Don’t punch me in the face, but I need to make sure that you are absolutely sure.”

Darren’s fingers are twisted in his hair and his tongue is halfway down Chris’ throat, and it’s then that Chris knows that _yeah_ , maybe Darren has thought it all through, and they just might survive this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one with the confirmation.

They take extra care of ensuring Darren’s face is not puffy and cried out in the least, and that Chris’ hair looks a little less like Darren has just been mauling him alive. These fan pictures will be the very beginning of a whirlwind that could suck them in without a moment’s notice, and it’s eerie how aware they both are without muttering a single word.

Darren looks at Chris and shrugs. “Ready?”

“You still look like you’re having a terrible allergic reaction to shrimp.”

“Mmmm, well you look like you just sat on a nine inch dildo.”

“Please. You, sir, are dreaming.”

Darren huffs and pulls his jacket on. “I’m almost there!”

“Uh huh, keep telling yourself that. Put your damn pants on and let’s go before I turn into chicken shit for the six-billionth time and sneak out the front entrance.” 

Darren blows a kiss across the small room and works on tugging his skinny jeans up over his hips while Chris smirks and tries not to mentally tabulate just how much of an exaggeration it may have been. He’s about an inch and a half off, not too bad by all measure. Anything to keep his mind off of what they are about to do. Chris’ eyes flicker around the room at lightning speed. 

“Are you sure-”

“ _Chris._ Seriously?”

“What! I was going to ask if you’re okay. I’ll wait here as long as it takes for you to feel presentable. I, as you know,” Chris preens, “already am.”

Darren snorts, finally dressed as he straightens up with a low groan that lets Chris know that the show is taking a physical toll on his body as much as an emotional one on his mind. Their… personal activities the night before probably didn’t help in _that_ department either. Chris is pretty sure he owes Darren one hell of a backrub for the amount of time he had spent with his ankles up around the back of his ears last night. 

“So what you’re trying to say is you don’t want my puffy face to ruin a picture with you in it? You are one vain little son of a bitch, Colfer.” Chris opens his mouth in tandem with one step in his direction, fully ready to argue, but Darren beats him to the punch. He smacks a loud, obnoxious, off-center kiss against Chris’ open mouth. “Let’s just get this over with before we can think it to death, okay? The sooner we leave, the sooner I can get home to food and a shower and you with less clothes on.”

“No. I want you to think this to death. I don’t want you to resent me for pushing you to it.”

Darren’s head flops forward onto Chris’ chest with a frustrated sigh. “How many times am I going to have to tell you that I want this? That I want you?” He knocks his forehead into the firm space between Chris’ pecs to emphasize his point. “You. Are. Not. Pushing. Me! _I_ am pushing me. And I’m about ready to push your sweet ass out of the door myself if you don’t get going.”

Chris doesn’t budge, hesitation written all over his face. “I know what you want. I just… Dare, I’m scared that it isn’t what you need right now. The drama, this relentless transition in your career? You have enough on your plate, and all of this could shatter it all.”

“I’m not letting you talk me out of this, Colfer. I’m leaving now. Are you coming with me or not?” Darren shamelessly holds out his hand; Chris has no other choice but to take it. Darren’s always been the only choice he’d ever be willing to put himself out there like this.

“Okay. They’re going to hate this. Just so you know. It’s a shock, and most of them are probably here wanting to get into your pants.”

“Or maybe not, Chris. You’ve been here plenty of times now. They’ve probably assumed already. Besides, who cares? They are not who I am dating.” Darren takes a tighter grip on Chris’ hand and tangles their fingers together. They start walking together down the short hallway.

“Okay.” 

“They’re right outside there. Don’t let go of my hand.”

“Dare, you need to sign playbills and take pictures. That’s sort of how this whole stage door thing works. Am I really having to explain that to you, rookie?” Chris catches the unimpressed, impatient, pleading look Darren shoots him. He’s almost unnerved by how much Darren honestly seems to _want_ him here. He licks at his lips, dry as the dead of winter. ”I know. I’m sorry. I’m here. I promise I won’t run away.” And fine, after the talk last night, that was a very poor taste in words. “I mean, I’ll be right behind you the whole time.”

“Okay.” He takes two sharpies out of his back pocket and looks at Chris. “Okay.” He nods at the security guard who pushes the door open for them to exit. Chris is sure he sees two-hundred jaws drop and crash to the ground beneath them and is almost satisfied in how good it feels to shock them.

Chris watches Darren transform, again, right before his eyes. He turns on a blinding, full-of-teeth smile and steps into another role just like he does on the stage.

“Thanks everyone, for waiting around! I know I wouldn’t be here, on 44th and Broadway, playing one of my dream roles, without each and every one of you! I’ll get a picture with every single fucking one of you, so please be patient as I get through to you, okay? Let’s rock!” Darren runs to the first group of girls at the end of the barricade.

Chris is left awkwardly in the shadows, unable to move or make eye contact with any one person. He shuffles his feet and swallows, pretending not to pay attention as he waits for his... _boyfriend_ \- he’ll have to stop flinching at the word eventually - to be done with his obligations to the world. He tries to slip away into the corner but a girl directly in front of him calls his name and she’s crying, elated to see him in person, and that’s his weakness so he cautiously approaches. She throws herself into a crippling hug across the barricade. When they mutually break, she starts to babble about how Kurt was her life’s savior and how he brought her out of her dark places, out of suicide, and how she wouldn’t be here without him and _thank you_. He smiles at her and tries to find strong words to relay the message to ensure he’s glad she’s still here and they snap a picture. Well, that’s not too bad. He can do this.

He smiles at the next group and starts to chat with them about the show, about how great Darren is at this. A woman just out of earshot is screaming something at him, gazing with actual heart eyes but he can’t hear it and frankly, it’s creeping him out. He takes pictures with the girls he’s talking to and moves on to the next group that’s wailing his name. 

“Why are you here with D?” “Chris! You’re actually, really here!” “How’s the sex? Are you the top or bottom?” 

Chris closes his eyes, he draws a deep breath in through his nose and lets it out slowly. This is what coming out with Darren _is_ ; it’s sort of what he signed up for. He glances up and catches a glimpse of the back of Darren’s head. It’s enough.

He forces his collected mask back into place and turns to the shoving excited crowd of people who have now gathered in front of him. Almost as many still wait to pose with Darren at the other end of the line. “We’ve got to get going soon. I’m sorry. I… sorry.”

He speed walks away as if waiting across the street will do anything to protect him from the eyes and too loud comments buzzing all around him like an angry hive of bees. He makes sure to stay in Darren’s line of sight. He isn’t leaving, he just needs a moment to settle himself and show that he’s done. 

To anyone else that “we” is just two letters, but to Chris it’s the first step towards the change of everything.

Chris watches as Darren looks around him, seemingly lost, before saying something to the security guard, who nods his head toward Chris’ general direction. Darren follows his line of sight and wordlessly asks him if he’s okay. Chris shrugs and smiles and before he knows it, girls are screaming even louder as Darren dodges two cabs and an Escalade to get to Chris. 

“What’s up?”

“I can’t, Dare. This is too- I can’t. Just finish up and we can go, okay?”

Darren folds his arms and stares at Chris. “We’re being watched.”

“I _know_ that, and I’m trying to keep my cool. What are you-”

Darren reaches out and slowly rubs his fingertips against Chris’ forearm. “I want this to work. We’re being watched and I want this to work. Did one of them upset you?”

“No. Yes. I don’t… _Dare _.”__

__“Okay, we’re cool. I can follow your lead, whatever you want. But…”_ _

__“I don’t like that but.”_ _

__“Would it be a horrible thing if we just cleared up the rumors right now?”_ _

__“What are you talking about?”_ _

__“Let me kiss you.”_ _

__Chris is hyper-aware of the non-sounds rushing through his ears like ocean waves living inside his brain. He focuses on the movement of Darren’s lips as he says something else that he can’t hear; it’s now or never. He already committed to it and Chris is not a quitter._ _

__He surges into Darren’s face and gives them somewhat of a stage kiss that will definitely prove to every social media outlet that they are absolutely, one-hundred percent _together_._ _

__Darren pulls back a little with a chuckle from deep within his chest. “Or you could kiss me, either way.”_ _

“Come on, _boyfriend_. You need to do your stage door.” The confidence may be false, it may be uncharacteristically spontaneous, but Chris takes Darren’s hand and leads them back across the street. 

__“The way you say that word is going to give me a fucking complex.” Darren shakes his head while they wait for a tour bus to pass them by. “You know we just totally melted the Internet, right? I bet Tumblr is-”_ _

__“Darren,” Chris snaps and sets off towards the line of wide-eyes and iPhones, pulling Darren along behind him by the hand. “I don’t want to hear another goddamn word about Tumblr.”_ _

__“Omigod that was the most Klainiest kiss I’ve ever seen!” A girl says in lieu of greeting to Chris once they split up again to tend to their fans._ _

__“That’s not true. That was all us this time.” And Chris preens because he catches Darren’s grin and warm, glowing eyes locked directly on him, ready to attack. He smiles back._ _

__Signed, sealed, delivered. Confirmed._ _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where Darren tells his Mama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fluffy one shot that takes place a few days after the final chapter of Follow My Voice. Darren has some important news to share and words get spoken for the first time.

Darren Criss has never been the best at the idea of all things in moderation. Growing up, it was Darren’s brother who took his time, neatly unwrapping each gift on Christmas morning, where little Darren dove in, headfirst, creating a tornado of wrapping paper and cardboard boxes. Wrecking the living room was just kind of his thing, especially on Christmas.

Later in life, Darren’s the one who woke up from more than one party half naked with zero recollection of the night before during the whole of his time in Ann Arbor. 

And when Chris fucking Colfer finally stops dicking around and allows him to use the word _boyfriend_ , he kind of wants to shout it from the Empire State building itself.

But that just isn’t something that he can do, rationally or in an effort to keep his balls. Chris is very much in touch with moderation and the importance of privacy; telling everyone in the world about their newfound relationship is not something Darren could do without having to deal with the consequences. And in this case, it would positively be ball chopping in the third degree. By Chris, his boyfriend, holding the knife.

So Darren starts small. He does as Chris might in this situation and he tells only his best friend, assuming that he’ll do his dirty work and pass it along in the group. **“You’ll never believe this shit, dude.”**

In passing, he lets his bosses at the theatre know so that Chris should be allowed access to come and go as he pleases, since he’s his boyfriend. Chris already knows this part, though, after jumping over chairs and buzzing right through backstage with no problems the other night. He seemed okay with it, Darren thinks.

Darren not only wants to tell his mom, he needs to. She always knows what to say to make him feel better about a nervous situation and also it’s only a matter of time before it breaks via the underbelly of online blogs and gossipy news outlets and the last thing he wants is for her to hear it from a source not nearly as creditable as her son. He just has to find the words to break this particular news. 

It’s not as if he hasn’t had a boyfriend before, though college was a while ago. But his parents know Chris. They also know (most of) the crazy situation they’ve both lived in for the past five years. Darren paces back and forth across his apartment with his phone in his fist trying to come up with the right explanation as to what has been going on between him and Chris since, well, since forever.

When he thinks he has a general script prepared, he finally dials and lets the familiar ringtone take him away. 

“My boy finally calls! It’s been almost two weeks, Pogi.” 

“Hi, Mama. I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been…” 

“You are busy being a big, Broadway star! It’s okay. I still can’t believe that was you up there on opening night! I will forgive you. Now, tell me everything that’s been happening.” 

_No pressure or anything._

“Well, I actually called for a very specific reason, Mama, and I need you to listen before you say anything.” 

Darren can almost see his mother’s mimicry of a shocked face even over the phone, it’s not that much different from his own. It makes him smile, despite the tension he holds in his body, the nerves tingling deep within. 

“Of course I will listen. When don’t I listen? So, tell me.” 

“No! Never. I don’t even know why I said that. I guess… I guess I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.” 

“You are my precious boy and you can tell me anything. But you seem… strange. Is everything okay over there? Do I need to send your brother to see you?” 

“No, no Ma, everything’s perfect. Chuck can stay where he is. So, um. You remember _Chris._ ” There’s a smile in his voice, something he can’t hide. He knows his mother will pick up on it immediately. 

This brings a pause that’s long enough to cause sweat to prickle up along the back of Darren’s neck. When she answers, his mother’s voice is unnaturally even. “Yes, I remember.” 

“Well, we’ve… um.” 

There’s a heavy sigh that Darren feels deep inside his chest. “Oh, Darren… Is this, will this be bad for you?” 

“No. At least, I don’t think so. But Mama, I guess I’m calling to tell you that I don’t really care. I’m still so in lo- um, I want him to be it for me. I’d trade it all… um. Chris is-”

“I know, Pogito. I knew when you introduced us to him all those years ago, and I’ve known every time you’ve mentioned his name since. But I guess I just thought by that by now, after all this time… Are you saying that he, does he seem to want this too? Because before…” The worrying tone in her voice is unmistakable. No matter what else Darren will ever be to the rest of the world, he will always be his mother’s baby boy first.

“I know. We ironed out all our shit. We were both at fault back then. We’re together for real now.”

“ _Darren._ ” The warning in her voice is imminent. 

“Sorry, Ma. I mean, we spoke of our issues and resolved most of them. He… he wants to be seen with me now… which is always a good thing, right?”

“What about work? They never wanted you to seem too…”

“That was Fox. It was all Fox. That part of my life is over.”

“And Chris? He is a new part? Well, not new I suppose, you stare at him like he just delivered a bucket a stars to your door. He makes you happy now?”

“He’s all I want.”

“You know that is all we care about, don’t you? For you to be happy and healthy, living your life. You’ve hidden your smiles away for so long at work, my Darren.. No more, okay?”

“No more.” Darren looks up from the couch when the door opens and Chris shuffles in with two oversized bags of groceries. Chris’ smile bounces off the light like a diamond keepsake hanging in a windshield. “Speak of the devil, Chris just got here and it appears he’s going to cook me a ton of food. Convenient, since I’m starved.”

His mother’s voice seems to rise an entire octave in his ear. “Good! You’re getting too thin doing that show! All that running around in women’s shoes, and the late hours. Oh, oh, tell him I said hello!” 

Darren barks out a laugh. “Mama says hello.” Darren kisses his cheek once Chris sits down. “I also say hello.”

Chris snatches the phone out of his hand before Darren can understand what’s happening. Darren knows he loves pseudo mothers since his own isn’t always accessible. “Hi, Cerina! How’ve you been?” Chris jumps up and disappears into the kitchen with the phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear. “I have so much to tell you. The other night, we went and got Thai...”

Darren launches himself after Chris with a hissed “Don’t you dare, fucker!” under his breath that he can only hope his mother’s hearing wasn’t good enough to pick up. They do a little dance of lunging and ducking around all twelve square feet of the kitchen, Chris successfully keeping the phone away from Darren’s grabbing hands. He consistently rattles off a string of _Oh’s and hm’s and yeah’s_ the whole time. 

“Yep. And then your son slurped noodles and stared at me like it was a challenge not to call you.”

Darren admits defeat and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the counter. He catches Chris’ eyes and carefully mouths the word “asshole.”

His mother’s voice is a high-pitched, drone that Darren can barely make out without being able to decipher any of the words as she continues to go on and on in Chris’ ear. Darren sighs and finally turns away to begin investigating the contents of the shopping bags Chris brought with him, when something about Chris’ posture subtly changes in the edge of his vision. It’s then that Darren realizes that both Chris and his mom have gone silent on the phone.

“I… I think so. Maybe. Probably.” Chris’ face looks white, perfectly still. Darren turns to face him fully and furrows his eyebrows questioningly. Chris grins and sticks his tongue out at him. “Your mom thinks you’re developing bad manners in New York.” 

“I’ll show you bad manners.” Darren’s words are barely above a whisper and he hopes to god that it’s soft enough for only Chris to hear.

Chris rolls his eyes and dances away with the phone again, while Darren sets about unpacking all the groceries into his cupboards and fridge. It leaves him feeling a warm buzz under his skin to hear the background noise of Chris and his mother chatting playfully in the background. It’s a moment that he never knew he always wanted until it’s happening. Chris thrusts his phone back into his face as he organizes the last of the produce in the bowl on the counter.

“She wants to say bye.”

Darren tucks the phone back between his ear and shoulder, bending to find the cutting board and a knife. “Wow, my very own mother actually wants to speak to me? Whatever is the occasion?”

“Don’t be a sourpuss, Pogi. And watch your foul mouth, it’s ugly.”

“Yes, Mama.” _That_ battle never ends.

“You be very nice to that boy.”

“What about him! He can be mean as a damn snake when he wants! Did you warn him of the same thing?” Peppers are arranged, an onion is sought out.

“Anyone who can put up with you is smart enough to know to treat you well.”

“Oh yes. Chris is the smart one, Mama.” Darren rolls his eyes at Chris’ breathy laugh from across the kitchen. “I love you, Ma.” He doesn’t break eye contact with Chris as he says the words, then twirls away because it seems to be too much.

“I love you, my Darren. Now go and eat. You boys both work too much. And if you don’t call me next Monday, he will. Remember that.”

Darren laughs. “Duly noted. Bye.” He hangs up and puts the phone safely on the counter. He stares at Chris, who suddenly seems to find the prepackaged shrimp he bought utterly fascinating. “So now we know you can charm the pants off middle aged Filipino women. You two ganging up on me?” 

Chris tosses the shrimp into the freezer. “We already knew how much she loves me, Dare. Keep up.”

Darren laughs and goes over to wash his hands in the sink. “That’s right. The whole world just adores you, don’t they?” He repositions the cutting board with a shake of his head. 

“Finally, he understands!”

It’s not like Darren can actually disagree, so for once, he just remains quiet and starts cutting up the damn peppers.

“You know,” Chris goes to wash his hands, too. “I really missed your family. You know I’ve always been… envious, I guess.”

“Well, Cerina Criss is always available to be a pseudo mother to anyone who can handle her insane son. You’re kinda on the top of her list.” He crinkles his nose and smirks. “She tends to be a big fan of anyone who can distract me for a while. It means she doesn’t have to entertain me.”

“I can’t wait to see them again.” Chris nods; the statement is mostly to himself and Darren is warm inside again with just the thought of his family maybe one day becoming Chris’ family too.

“Me either.” Darren smiles into the peppers. The silence settles as they domestically cut and sauté the simple ingredients into something fabulous.

Later on, after an amazing meal and an even better mutual blow job, they’re sated and faded. Chris is playing with the creases of Darren’s knuckles, resting his head on Darren’s clavicle.

“People definitely bitch and moan way too much about Mondays. I think they’re awesome.” Chris’ voice is already soft and slurred with a half-asleep dreaminess to it. .

“Mmhmm. The best.”

“Darren?” Chris lifts his face to dig his chin into the hole above Darren’s chest bones. 

Darren doesn’t bother opening his eyes, he just lifts his eyebrows in a drowsy look of mild interest.

“Thanks for all this. I swore I was content enough before, but. Just, thanks. I’m happy we could finally figure this shit out.”

Darren lets the slow smile drift across his face as his fingers trace the long, lean lines of Chris’ back. “This is good, right? What we’re doing here, it’s actually fucking working for us?”

“Well, I don’t do anything I don’t want to, for one.” Chris’ laugh shakes against Darren’s stomach.

“Point taken.” He yawns and presses his head back deeper into his pillow. Chris’ alarm on his phone is set to wake him up before the roosters so that he’d have time to rush back to Ashley’s and change before he had a meeting with one of the people at his publishing house. Yes, it’s the ass crack of dawn, but Darren’s just glad he agrees to stay. 

“Goodnight.”

“‘Night, lover.”

The silence settles again and they collectively try to empty the thoughts they’re having for the night so that they could get at least a few hours of sleep. When Chris starts to giggle under his breath again, Darren turns and opens one eye. “What the fuck could possibly be so funny?”

“You are such a _mama’s_ boy. It’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, shut up. I’m the baby.”

“Whatever you say… _Pogi._ ”

Darren is entirely still for all of five seconds, Chris bursting out into full blown belly laughs when Darren’s eyes snap open in a pointed glare. “If you ever want to see my dick hard again, definitely do not call me that.”

Chris loses it then, grasping onto the sheets and pulling them over his face to try and muffle them. When he calms down a bit, Chris peeks out again and looks at Darren. The moment turns somewhat serious, thick, like it’ll mean something for years to come. “You know what?”

“Hmm?”

“I fucking love you.”

Darren smiles, not sure if he is dreaming or awake. He’ll take it either way. “I love you. Now shhh. I’m sleeping.”

Chris’ mouth falls open and his lips begin to form soundless, useless words that die out before they actually register in his brain. Darren knows Chris is about ready to flip out on him.

Darren’s hand finds Chris’ on the mattress between them and he weaves their fingers together, squeezing Chris’ tightly for a second before releasing again. He turns over onto his side and shifts his body even closer without opening his eyes.

Oh. Okay then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pogi/Pogito is loosely translated to “handsome boy” in Tagalog. Technically, Pogito is “cute little boy”. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the one with the selfie.
> 
> A short and sweet drabble from the Hedwig verse that we'd like to dedicate to alittledizzy and savvymavvy for being the original CC writer dream team. In which Chris and Darren finally realize that they both do a thing...

“I have to work tomorrow.”

“I know you do.”  Darren spits his toothpaste out into the sink and shrugs.  “I have to work six days out of the week.”

Chris smirks at Darren’s reflection in the mirror and dabs a bit of shaving cream off of his chin with a hand towel.

“You’re supposed to shave it off, Chris.  Is there not enough, there?”

“Shut up, not all of us were born with lumberjack DNA.”

“You love the burn between your thighs.  You can’t fucking _wait_ until the end of July.”

Chris rolls his eyes and escapes the bathroom.  He climbs into bed and puts his glasses back on, grabbing the latest book he’s devouring off of _his_ nightstand. “Goodnight, Darren.”  

Chris may not have picked out a single piece of furniture or artwork in this apartment, but his presence has soaked into the walls and floorboards so much that he’s become an irreconcilable part of Darren’s home.  Chris’ books, Chris’ drinks taking up an entire shelf in his refrigerator, Chris’ crappy razor that wouldn’t take the hair off of Darren’s toes, Chris’ home too.

Darren grabs his laptop and climbs into the other side of the bed.  He lets Tumblr load and nudges Chris.  “Please.  Indulge me and look through this shit with me?”

Chris doesn’t even look over.  “No.”  

Darren laughs. “Babe, come on.  It’s a useful ego boost most of the time!”

“As if your ego needs any stroking.” Chris glances at Darren out of the corner of his eye and catches the wicked look on Darren’s face. “Nope! No, stroking jokes are too easy.  Even for you.  If you really want someone to troll that demonic website with, call your brother.”

“Ugh.  He’s not you.  I can’t talk about how sexy you are with Chuck.  He’s gonna hurt me if I try that again.  Do you want me hurt?”

“Darren-”

“What the fuck, Christopher?  We’re making exactly the same face in this shit! Look!”

Chris turns a page in his paperback, definitely about some old, dead monarch, without looking back over at him.  “I assure you that our faces are nothing alike.”

“Can we take a selfie right now please?  Come here.”  Darren leans over and grabs his phone.

Chris groans and falls over sideways dramatically.  “You’re just not going to let me read and go to sleep, are you?”

“What time is your meeting?”

“Eleven.”

“Then, nope.”

Chris goes limp and makes his body into dead weight as Darren attempts to force him back up into a sitting position on the bed.  The struggle goes on for almost a minute, until Darren finally props Chris up like a ragdoll against the headboard of his bed.  He straightens the crooked glasses on his boyfriend’s nose with a grin and kisses his cheek at Chris’ apparent submission.

“I love you.”

“Take your damn picture. And if it somehow ends up on Tumblr, I swear to God, Darren...”

Darren scoffs and slides his body in beside Chris’ on the mattress.  “You say that like you think I have an account there.”

“I _know_ you do.”

“Fine.  Whatever.  I even have some friends over there.  They’ll never even know!”

Chris sighs and fluffs at the front of his hair, already drying into a thick, hopeless mess after his shower.  There’s no saving it. “Yes, I’m sure you and all your demon fangirl playmates have fascinating conversations about the shape of your ass. Good for you, honey. Now can we please take this picture so that I can get back to my research?”

Darren glances down at the book Chris laid down cover up on the mattress.  “You’re going to try to claim that is research? Tales about the sex and scandals of the fourteenth century French royals?”

“It could be.”

Darren laughs and slides one arm around Chris’ neck.  “Show me what you’ve learned.”

“I thought you wanted to take your precious selfie?”

“Post-sex selfie for the man you love?”

Chris’ grin is slow and his eyes blaze up behind the lenses of his glasses before he is shoving Darren down to lie flat on his back and going for the elastic waistband of his sweatpants.

Darren tosses the phone and it lands wherever it does.  “God, I was so kidding but keep going.”

And so Chris does.  He fucks all the love out of Darren’s soul and then strokes him hard again and proceeds to give his lover the blow of his life just for good measure.  As good as gold and contentedly pleased with themselves, each other, and the world around them around them as a whole, they curl up together and Darren watches as Chris flutters his eyes closed, tired and ready for the rest they deserve.  

“Uh uh, boyfriend.  We still have a selfie to take.”

Chris doesn’t lift his head out of the pillow, one deep crease forming between his eyebrows.  “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Nope, a deal is a deal, Chris.”

Only Chris could ever hope to pull off such a pointed glare while butt naked and only opening one eye.  “I just got you off twice, and you’re whining about a freaking picture?  Go to sleep.”

Darren inches his way up to kiss Chris’ cheek while he clicks the button and looks it over.  “Awww, Chris.  Look.”

Chris opens the other eye and looks up at the phone Darren has shoved in front of his face.  “You can see my teeth, hell no.  Take it again.”

“You’re so cute.  I’m keeping this one forever.”

Chris sits up and tries to snatch the phone out of Darren’s hand.  They begin an aggressive game of keep away. “Darren, I swear, if you don’t delete that picture-”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll…” Chris stops and tries to think it through for a minute. “I’ll hide your favorite tee shirt, delete all of the Comedy Central roasts off the DVR, _and_ I’ll cut you off for a week.”

“No, you won’t.” Darren calls his bluff.

“Try me.”

“I promise it won’t go anywhere except my iCloud.  Come on, let’s take a good one I can post on Instagram.”

Chris sighs and sits up, propping his chin over Darren’s shoulder.  “Let’s just do this already. On three?”

“One… two… three.”  

Darren and Chris pose with their best faces, mouths open and eyes wide, for the camera then huddle around it to see if it’s social media worthy.  

“I fucking told you, Colfer!  You do my face!”

Chris smirks.  “Want me to?”

Darren shoves at him.  “Even you can’t get it up three times in one hour.  You’re not nineteen anymore, baby.  No, look at this shit.  You copied my face.”

Chris rolls his eyes and pushes the phone away.  “I only did that because you were doing it.”

“That’s a lie.  You fucking do it all the time.”

“Me?  Fuck off.  You’re the copycat.”

“ _You_ stop copying _me_ , asshole!  God!”  Darren throws himself flat on the bed in a fake temper tantrum.

“Oh my God, I’m dating an actual toddler.”

Darren looks back at him over his shoulder with his full, lower lip poked out.  “Yeah? Well, you’re also a face stealing, poo poo head.”

“I’m not even… Goodnight.” Chris sighs and turns over to face the wall.  He gives the comforter a hard tug, but can’t budge it out from underneath Darren’s body.

Darren eventually moves, helping to cover Chris’ body with the blanket, rolling over to spoon Chris.  “Love you, beautiful.  Sweet dreams.”

Chris smiles and situates himself so that his bulges become one with Darren’s crevices.  “Love you too.  So much.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one with the very good morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some early morning smutty fluff set a few weeks after the end of Follow My Voice. Fairy tales, blow jobs, and toothpaste... Oh my!

Something is wrong; something feels off-balance. Darren isn't immediately sure what the out of place sensation is as his mind swims back up towards the realm of consciousness, but his arms seem better informed and are already reaching blindly across the mattress. The other side of the bed is empty and cold, and although things could certainly be worse, something’s still not quite right. After only a few short weeks of having Chris lying next to him each night, Darren finds that he can’t seem to sleep any other way. He is officially spoiled, accustomed to the shared warmth and constant weight, the lack of it pulling him out of a deep sleep, the very fact that Chris is next to him willingly.  His eyes blink up blearily at the white ceiling above him. The light in the room is washed out, gray, faded, bland.  All universal signs of _too fucking early_. 

Darren's initial hope of Chris just being in the bathroom is quickly dashed when he hears the unmistakable plastic clack of laptop keys coming from the living room. He pushes himself to sit up in bed with a loud and hopefully noticeable groan. "Babe?" 

"Yeah. I'm in here." Chris' voice comes in through the open bedroom door and even _that_ makes Darren smile. He is so far gone with no way to reel him back in. 

6:47.  On a Friday morning. That's just not right. 

"Ass crack of dawn, Chris. Come back to bed." Darren stretches his arms, causing one shoulder to pop painfully. Maybe this show is breaking him; maybe he _is_ getting old as Chris is so apt to tease him about these days.   

"In a minute! I had an idea, and I wanna get it down before I lose it." The typing sounds don't cease for even a second. 

Darren has learned these _minutes_ with Chris lost inside a Microsoft Word document completely immersing himself in worlds of heroes, myths, and villains where he alone gets to decide the outcomes, tend to last more like an hour. He understands that.  Darren has come up with and then subsequently lost more song ideas than he will ever write before he'd had a chance to slow down long enough to record the ideas anywhere. But understanding isn't enough to keep him from propping himself up on the pillows and pouting like a six-year-old while he waits impatiently for his boyfriend to come back to bed and bring the warmth with him. 

Eventually, Darren lies back down and drifts in and out, fighting with his eyes to stay open while he waits.  And then waits some more. 

Chris' minute miraculously only lasts about fifteen this time, and he's slipping back in through the bedroom door with a glass of orange juice in his hand. He looks like every wet dream Darren never knew he needed until right now, in his tight gray briefs, tank top, bed head and glasses. Darren opens his arms wide with a grin, which Chris only dignifies with a snort, before walking around to his side of the bed, pulling off his glasses and climbing back underneath their thick blanket. 

Not one to be so easily denied, Darren rolls over and slings one leg and arm over Chris' body as soon as he is settled and still. They shift and move in tiny and subtle increments until their bodies algin into their natural cuddling position: Darren's head sideways across Chris' chest, one of Chris' large hands splayed across the span of Darren's shoulder blade. 

"So what was this important plot idea that you had to deprive me of my beauty sleep for?" 

Chris' quiet chuckle bounces off of Darren's head. "You really want to know?" 

"No.  That was a rhetorical question.  I never want to know anything about you and your ideas ever." 

"Smartass." Darren receives a light smack to the back if his head. "I was writing about this... fairy godmother type who is overweight so she’s not a typical fairy like Tink or anyone you’d recognize, she’s just… the Elphaba fairy, kind of, because she’s weird and an outsider in her own world.  So she’s always a day late and a dollar short because her wings are overworked and slow, so she’s struggling.  But she can’t help it, she has this disease that makes her that way, call it the fairy equivalent of a thyroid condition.  I don’t think the only reason for her being overweight is just because she’s given up and eats all this Thai food and drinks red wine and watches Real Housetrolls of Bunglejeffin.” 

Darren's laugh bursts out of him far too sudden and sharp for so early on a lazy morning. "What?! Care to repeat that one?" 

Chris' grin is wide, eyes animated and sparkling. "Bunglejeffin." 

"Of course." He cranes his head up at an uncomfortable and unnatural angle to press his lips to the bare skin above the collar of Chris' shirt. "Carry on."  
  
"Like, they’re all New Yorker fairies and she’s the poor soul from the Midwest trying to fit into the big city. She eventually gets tired of watching all of the other fairies flying around up there, like… they can play whatever the equivalent of Quidditch is in Fairyworld and they zoom around so fast and efficiently and they get so much work because they’re all so great at their fairy duties, but she can’t even join their book club because it's held in a cloud coffee shop on the ninth one!"  
  
"Of course it is."  
  
Chris jabs Darren in the thigh just hard enough to hurt.  
  
"Yeah, shutting up.  What else?  What’s she do about it?"  
  
"Anyway, she finally gets sick and tired of being left out of everything, so she gets up off her couch and starts planning ways to better her life.  Gravity and fate will not make her their bitch.  She becomes an entrepreneur, an inventor!  And she ends up building this single-fairy hovercraft made of acorn shells and spider silk so tightly woven that it's as strong as steel.  It’s called the Getaway 3000.”  
  
"But how would than even-"  
  
"Fairy dust.  And glitter.  I mean, it’s definitely thanks to Hedwig’s glitter but I can’t say that because it’s a children’s book, and I don’t want to be sued for copyright infringement.  But you’ll know.  When it comes out and all these eight-year-olds are reading it, know that Buxom Bernice’s hovercraft only works with the glitter inside _your_ pants." Chris cuts Darren off before he's even had the chance to fully verbalize his confusion.  
  
Darren blinks.  "There are no words I have for you right now.  Is this overweight fairy…?"  
  
"It takes _her_ years to perfect it but she finally gets it to fly.  Anyway, long story short…”  Chris sings in the way Darren does six times a week, the lyrics taking a very different meaning here.   “The other faeries don't like it; they’re jealous, Ms. Bernice can sense that they hate her because of the things she can do with the fancy hovercraft. They still won't accept her even after all this hard work she's put in to be accepted, and it hurts.  Even still, she's not going to just lay down and take it.  She’s a fighter.  She's not going to be grounded again.  So she promises herself to fly her chubby little ass all the way to the highest rankings of the fairy council if she has to.  Just to prove a point that if you work hard enough, you can achieve whatever the hell you want to.  Even if everyone hates you."  
  
"That's... kind of amazing." The way Chris' mind works and the way he sees the world in a way that's so different from anyone else is something Darren will never get used to or, hopefully, take for granted. How Chris can take these not so happy stories from his own life struggles and turn them into something empowering and beautiful for kids to enjoy and learn from without even realizing it... It's incredible, and makes Darren feel all the more grateful to be the person who gets to see this man in ways that no one else in the world does. Open, brilliant, messy hair when no one’s looking, and perfect.  "I assume she will ultimately succeed and usher in a new age of hovercraft driving fairyfolk?"  
  
Darren is treated to one of Chris' rare, unreserved toothy grins. "Wouldn't be a good story if she didn't.  If you can dream it, you can do it and all that corny shit your parents tell you when you’re six."  
  
He slides one hand up the length of Chris' body to wrap around the side of his neck and twists up and around until their mouths can make contact. Darren's open and wanting, and Chris' lips still curved and smiling. Darren licks at the barely parted opening until Chris relaxes his mouth and allows himself to be kissed good morning properly.  
  
The firm, lean form of the body underneath him, the orange juice sweet taste of Chris' mouth make Darren feel hungry. Need begins to ripple across his skin in waves until he abandons Chris' slick, pink lips to kiss downward along his chin and long neck.  Darren leaves dark splotches on the material of Chris' shirt when he pauses long enough to mouth wetly over the tiny swell and indent of one of his small nipples and the area where his navel dips below the clinging tank top.  
  
"Oh, yeah okay."  Chris lies his head back and swallows audibly.  
  
Darren's hands move ahead of his eager mouth, tracing down over Chris' hipbones and catching for a moment on the elastic waistband on his underwear. His fingers snap at the fabric, forcing a startled gasp from Chris above. Darren dips his head to drag his lips across the wiry line of hair that leads into Chris' underwear. Fuck, the smell of a man like this makes Darren's blood run hot and surge with fast, fast want.  
  
He licks along the shape of Chris' erection, now thick and out to play inside his briefs, pausing to pluck at the stretchy cotton with his teeth when he reaches the pronounced ridge of the head of Chris' cock. His hand cups and rubs at Chris teasingly, bringing him up to full hardness slow and easy.  
  
"I freaking hate you.  Good God."  Chris’ voice has lowered at least an octave and a half; fluid words turn into a growl of rasp and lingering want.  
  
_Well, that's just too bad because I happen to love you, beautiful. And this perfect cock._  
  
Once he has licked and sucked at the tip through Chris' underwear until he can literally taste Chris through the spit-wet cotton, Darren rolls the material down to bunch up around Chris' thighs. Darren uses his hands to urge his boyfriend's legs far enough apart so that he can rest his body comfortably between them.  
  
He takes pity on Chris for the teasing and the gorgeously high-pitched whimpering noises escaping his mouth and only laps and suckles at the feverish skin of his balls for a few seconds; just long enough to make sure they're coated with a thin layer of Darren's saliva before he sucks a line of kisses up the underside of Chris' hard shaft.  
  
Darren is one of those guys who actually loves the act of blowing cock.  He thrives in the weight on his tongue, the stretch of his lips, the fullness of his mouth.  Chris’ personal flavor of bitter salt, the challenge within itself of avoiding the ultimately unsexy gag when Chris' shocking length begins to knock at the back of his throat.  But more than all of that, he loves it when Chris sits up to balance himself on his own elbows so that he can watch what Darren is doing to effectively send him over the edge. Their gazes lock with a burning sensation, bright green-gray meeting blown out and smoky whiskey-gold.  
  
Chris is desperate and undone when he lies one heavy hand on the top of Darren's head, if only to feel the bobbing motion of it underneath.  Darren knows that Chris’ sense of touching and feeling intensifies in moments like these.  
  
"Jesus, your lips were fucking _made_ for this. Dare, _God_ , more…  can you take more?" Chris' eyes are glazed over, mesmerized by the sight of the plush red mouth wrapped around him and making his dick shine wet in the pale early morning sunlight. He begins subtly nudging with his hips, his body insisting on taking a more active role in chasing the release it wants. Darren just relaxes his throat and lets him go until Chris cries out and comes fast and thick into his mouth.  
  
Darren licks and nurses him through it, until he realizes how much the grinding against the mattress is making him want to come himself.  
  
_God dammit, Colfer._  
  
He scrambles up the bed awkwardly all elbows and uncoordinated legs, until he's standing by the edge of the bed and pulling at Chris' arm frantically.  
  
The realization dawns in Chris' bright eyes and he hurries to move and situate himself to sit up. His hands immediately go to either side of Darren's waist. "What do you need?”  
  
"Don't need much." Darren's voice if a gruff rasp as he pulls his own dick free from his boxers and gives it a few perfunctory strokes. "Just give me your mouth, baby. Shit, c'mere."  
  
He guides himself towards Chris' waiting lips and moans, broken at the first hot suckle.  Chris closes his lips around just the head of Darren's dick and starts massaging at the super sensitive underside with his tongue, letting out a gurgling laugh that Darren can feel vibrate up the length of his cock.  
  
"Ah, Chris!"  
  
Thankfully they are to the point in their relationship when stamina doesn't mean shit in terms of getting off in the early morning hours, because Darren is spilling into Chris' mouth within ninety seconds flat. The rush hits him hard and catches Darren by surprise, making him jump and smear a final couple of strings of sticky come across Chris' chin, upper lip and nose. 

He can't exactly _not_ spread the mess around Chris' now scowling lips with the head of his cock. "Sorry." The word comes out amidst a blissful sigh and comes off in no way convincing. 

"Uh huh, you look it." 

Darren just grunts and folds his knees up onto the bed until he is straddling Chris' lap. Chris' hands come up behind his back to hold him steady when Darren begins to lick the smeary traces of his own release from his lover's face before kissing him deeply once more. 

"You're gross.  And so hot." 

"You're gorgeous." 

Chris snickers beneath Darren's lips and then pecks him on the chin sweetly. "Okay, up." 

Darren thinks about arguing, Chris' lap is a pretty comfy place to be after just coming his brains out and, frankly, he has no desire to move. "Nuh uh. I'm good." 

His protests come to no avail when he is shoved to the side and falls face first back into their tangled and damp sheets. He _feels_ rather than _sees_ Chris climb back out of the bed, too lazy and feeling too good to bother lifting his head from the mattress. 

It isn't until he hears Chris make the most cringingly, god awful " _eugh"_ noise that Darren's ever heard that he rolls onto his back and turns his head towards towards the bathroom door. 

"What in the _hell_ was that sound, Christopher?"

Darren hears the sound of water being spit into the sink before Chris responds. "Can we just have a conversation about how freaking _bad_ the combination of toothpaste and come tastes? Shit." 

Darren laughs so hard that his eyes squint up and his voice squeaks. He lies back down with one arm pillowed behind his head. If this morning could be the rest of his life, he thinks he'd be perfectly okay with that. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! This one is a comical little piece set around two weeks after the end of Follow My Voice in which... Well, not _everyone_ approves of their relationship on the spot. Sometimes old jealousies are the hardest to overcome. Can't wait to hear what you all think!
> 
> Chapter: The one where Ashley doesn't approve

Sushi Samba is such a stereotypical New York lunch spot, with its chrome tables and art deco tile, but it doesn’t shock Chris that Ashley would want to take him there. He meets her anyway when Darren literally forces him out the door, saying something about how Chris is staying with her _(“No, I’m staying with you. This place has sex and better water pressure.”)_ and how he should spend some time with her at least a little bit. He begrudgingly agrees and allows Darren to pull a tee shirt on over his head, before sending him out the door with a grin and hard smack on the ass.

After he’s shown to the table, after he’s subjected to the Fink inquisition for fifteen minutes straight and counting, after she actually asks him _what he’s thinking_ , he orders a martini. It goes down smoothly, lessening the effects of her sarcastic form of not-so-passive aggressive condescending judgment, and he soon reaches the bottom of his glass and needs another. After their sushi comes to the table, after she sends it back with a red-painted smile on her face, after she calls the waiter an idiot as soon as the poor guy is out of sight, Chris orders a third. After _“I get it. He was the first one to give you some booty, and it’s always been the forbidden fruit thing. But honestly, babydoll. You can just do so much…”_ it’s a fourth. And then, a fifth. 

It’s not the most enjoyable lunch he’s ever had, this experience. If she were literally anyone else in the world, Chris would probably throw his drink in her face when the questions turn into snide comments and then outright bitter insults hurled unfairly at a man who she knows fully well he cares about very much. Chris is a loyal friend, he prides himself on that, and a splinter of hurt imbeds itself in his skin when he has no choice but to accept that the feeling doesn't go both ways. He just blinks at her silently, without the obvious excuses and answers, when she later questions, _“Chris, why are you shutting me out?”_.

He loves her, of course. She’s his best friend. Or maybe, just at this point, oldest. But, as she talks about his current boyfriend, someone he has laughed with more in the in the past month than he has with all the other men he’s dated in the previous five years put together, as if he’s the worst person in the world, he starts to see what’s happening here. Maybe it’s time. Maybe it’s maturity, distance, or just the excess of alcohol buzzing through his system that brings about this moment of enlightenment. Chris frowns and stares across the table at her through bleary eyes and immediately knows the truth. 

Ashley loves him more than he loves her and in an entirely different way. 

She loves him in a way that will never be reciprocated or validated in the way she’d like. Now that she’s screaming about how Darren’s always been terrible for him, has always been a complication Chris just didn't need in his orderly life, he can only sigh. Chris tunes her out and orders a sixth. 

Somewhere in his drunken stupor, in the middle of this one-sided argument, Chris starts to think about just how different Darren is from everyone else in his life. Darren pretty much hates Ashley more than the horse she rode in on, is well aware of her opinion of him and the ways he’s chosen to live his life, but he still forces Chris to go spend time with her based solely on the fact that she is Chris’ friend. That’s the difference, Darren wants him to choose the people he loves for himself. He can’t say that for everyone. 

Ashley takes a break in her verbal assault on Chris’ choices and stupid decisions long enough to inhale another Maki roll and Chris takes a breath. God, he needs to pee.

As he makes his way over to the back of the restaurant in search of a bathroom, his phone buzzes. He knows exactly who it must be.

**“Checking in, babe. There’s this party tonight at Studio 54 if you want to go. Or we can grab some sandwiches and have a three-way with the DVR. Up to you.”**

**“Ash is driving mw xrazy. I’ve been ambushed by AskMe Fink and vodka.”**

Chris feels the vibrate in his hand and when he looks down, Darren’s delicious smile is staring back up at him. 

“Hello?”

“What do you mean ambushed? Are you drunk?”

“You know me, just another lush of Greenwich Village.” Chris slurs a bit. It’s not too bad. Yet.

“Chris? Can I come get you?”

“She wants me to choose, I think. She keeps trash talking you and I don’t…” Chris hiccups, “I don’t like it.”

“Oh.” 

“Hold on. I’m peeing.”

Chris can hear Darren laughing. He _lives_ for that laugh. 

He comes back out into the restaurant and sits across from Ashley. He speaks into the phone. “Dare?”

“Hi.”

Chris stares at Ashley. When did she clone herself? He blinks away the blurriness in his eyes. “Ash, I really… he is so good to me and he has the cutest little mole thing above his butt. I like him, a lot, and you don’t have to like him too or think he is the right kind of guy for me, but you could be happy for me? You were there, you know how much I wanted things to be different. Now they are different. You honestly have no reason not to like him besides the fact that he actually gets me and you-” Chris hiccups, “You can’t.”

Chris can hear Darren gasp inside the phone as he watches Ashley drop her jaw.

“Ah, shit.”

“Chris, you really shouldn’t have said-”

“Are you home right now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, babe. I am.”

“Gimme five minutes and come find me? Wanna see you. I’m right at Sushi Samba on Christopher Street.”

Darren sighs heavily, but it comes out in a quiet chuckle that mixes with the liquor to warm Chris down to his toes. “Ironic. That’s exactly the street I want to be on right now.”

Chris laughs. He allows a bubble of an honest-to-god giggle escape from deep within. “I hate you. See you in a minute.”

“Drink some water, loser. And maybe apologize? Maybe. It’s up to you, but friends can be hard to find. See you in a sec.”

Chris sets the phone down on the table top and opens his mouth to try and come up with what to say as Darren proves his point yet again. “Ash...”

“It’s fine. You made your point loud and clear. I get it.”

“Ash, I’m really drunk. Really, really drunk.”

“They say drunk words are what you really mean.” Ashley makes a show of redraping her napkin in her lap and holds up her hand to signal a waiter, all the while refusing to look directly across the table at him. At least, that’s what Chris thinks she’s doing, he can’t see too clearly. 

He sighs and gives her his best sheepish smile. “Well, you were being a little… harsh. But I’ve always appreciated ballsy women. We’re friends, right? I want everyone to get along, Ash. That’s all I really want.”

“Seems to me that he’s got you completely wrapped around his little pecker.”

“His _pecker_ is not that li-” He stops and looks down, shaking his head with a self-deprecating laugh. “At least be nice. Can you please do that for my sake?”

“I make no promises.”

“Ash…”

“Hey, you.” Their conversation is interrupted by Darren’s hands on Chris’ shoulders and his lips on Chris’ cheek. “Hey Ash! God, it’s been forever!” He approaches her and goes in for a clear hug.

“It’s been five months.” Her tone is flat and monotone as she makes no move to return Darren’s awkward one-armed embrace. Chris snorts out a giggle through his nose.

“Right. Well, LA feels like a lifetime ago. Doesn’t it? I prefer it here.” Darren nudges Chris over on the chair and shares it with him, elbows on the table and chin resting in his hands, leaning forward into Ashley’s personal space, probably to seem more engaged in the situation.

Ashley nods slowly, her eyes flickering back and forth between the two men seated across the table. “Guess I could see why it would feel that way for you. You’ve certainly been busy.”

“Yeah! Life is but a dream.” Darren winks then turns his head to smile at Chris. “Were you drinking martinis in the afternoon, Colfer?”

“Maaaaybe.” Chris drawls with a wide grin. “Or maybe martinis were drinking me. Hard to tell.”

“Okay, you fucking adorable creature. Let’s go home.”

That seems to peak Ashley’s attention. “So home is with you, now? And how long is this little playing house thing you two are doing going to last exactly? Until the end of the run of your show? Then what, you have to run home to LA and get acquainted with your closet again?”

“She _hates_ me.” Darren looks at Chris. 

Chris tries to whisper. “Sorry. No promises.”

“Ash, I’m going to be really nice to you and just smile and nod because the things I want to say to you wouldn’t be respectful to Chris. So, it was great seeing you. Text me if you ever want to come check out _Hedwig_ and if not, well… good luck with your… whatever it is that you’re doing now. You look great.”

“He’s my friend, asshole. I just don’t want to see him hurt again. There are guys I know who would do just about anything to have Chris even speak to them, but…” Her eyes flick back over to Chris’ face. He doesn’t need her to say out loud what he already knows she’s thinking. _“...but he always compared them to you.”_

Chris grimaces. Dammit. She’s said it.

“Of course he has a line around the block. But that’s not your place to dictate what he might want. For some unknown reason, he wants me right now. I’m going to be around until he realizes he’s been wasting his time all along. Until then?” Darren shrugs. “Deal with it, baby.”

Chris’ lips turn into a deep frown. He’s drunk, not deaf. “I’m not wasting anything. And Ash, Darren isn’t going back into the closet. I don’t think that’s even possible. But I’m going to support him either way. It would be great if you could do that too, but if you can’t, at least accept that this is what I want.” He slides his arm around Darren’s waist with a squeeze that is only half about needing physical support to stay upright. 

Darren smiles at him, eyes twinkling against the reflection of the window next to them. “I like you a whole lot, you know.”

“You’d better. I am standing up to a woman who could literally break me in half for you. Oops, no offense, Ash.”

She rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh and begins signing the slip to pay for their bill.

Darren laughs and kisses the side of Chris’ temple. “Let’s get you out of here before you insult anyone else. Okay, gorgeous?”

“I don’t insult people! And if I do, they still love me. Ashley loves me. Don’t you?” He looks back over at his friend who is busy gathering up her purse.

She ignores him and instead turns to Darren. “You’ll make sure he’s safe? He’s kind of like a lost, baby animal when he’s trashed. This city could swallow him up and spit him out alive.”

“I was actually thinking of throwing him down the subway stairs, first chance I get.” Darren rolls his eyes. “Nice seeing you.” He takes Chris’ hand and leads him out of the restaurant as quickly as he popped in. 

Chris does his best not to trip over his own feet as they begin to make their way down a busy sidewalk. Luckily for him it’s not that unusual to see a guy drunk at 2 PM on a Monday. His free hand clumsily plays with the buttons on Darren’s shirt as they walk. “I don’t think she likes you much.”

Darren snorts aloud. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

“I like you much though.”

“And you think the mole on my asscheek is cute.” Darren’s smirk lights up the entire borough.

Chris gasps and tries to shove himself away from Darren, who luckily doesn’t let him get far, and he miraculously does not fall and get a concussion. “That is a slanderous lie!”

“I’ll keep trying with Ashley. Okay?”

“See? Why can’t she keep trying with you? I’m sad when people I love don’t get along.”

Darren wiggles his eyebrows and pulls him in closer. God he feels good. “Love huh?” Darren grins at Chris’ blush. “Hey, this is new for everybody, not just us. Give it some time. Maybe she’ll come around.”

Chris pouts his bottom lip out, and tries to think through the martini haze clouding his brain. “You need to stop being so smart. I’m supposed to be the smart one in this relationship.”

“I’ll do my best to be a dumbfuck again as soon as you’re sober.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one with all the come-dumb drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andddd we're back! Amid trips to the middle of nowhere and _someone_ going into the city to see Hedwig every other day, here is another smutty CrissColfer one shot for you guys to enjoy. Chris decides to change things up a little the night before he leaves for his TLOS book signing tour. Does anyone not like fluffy, sweet smut? Really. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Nikkie's defense: If you lived forty-five minutes away from Darren's best role to date, would you or would you not go to 44th Street every fucking chance you get? I'm really not sorry at all.

Darren’s hand reverently maps out the soft lines of silky skin and firm muscle that make up Chris’ torso. He takes the time to really memorize the new springs of wiry light brown hair Chris hadn’t had then, splayed across his chest, and the darker brown freckles Darren, at twenty-three, had been stupid enough not to commit to memory.  He kisses his way across the angles and planes of Chris’ chest as any boyfriend would. 

“Shit, Chris.  You were gorgeous back then, but a different kind altogether.  My brain was screaming at me that I wasn’t supposed to be touching you; I couldn’t appreciate you the way I should have.” 

Chris’ eyes flash to his - the universal signal to keep talking.   

Darren smiles and kisses Chris’ clavicle, hard through the tight skin pulled over.  He sucks at the hole between bone and flesh.  “You looked so young.  Perfect, like something that should have been on display at the fucking MoMa. Look but don’t touch, you know?” 

Darren brushes the very tip of his fingertips down the center of Chris’ chest in a straight line, following appropriately with his lips.  He shuffles and comes back up to Chris’ lips, kissing them in a sense of plenitude. 

“I was afraid my fingerprints would… damage you somehow.  Back then.” 

“And what about now?” Chris’ voice is threaded through with need, his eyes partly closed, and that damn impish smile curving the edges of his flawless pink lips. Lying with one hand behind his neck like he owns the whole world as much as he knows he owns the man kneeling beside him on the mattress, there in nothing but a single piece of black cotton, stretched almost obscenely over the bulge of his cock, Chris looks anything but untouchable. 

Darren has to bend his head and kiss, and breathe, and _indulge_ in all that flushed skin for a moment before he can find his voice again. When he finally does, it’s more of a hoarse croak than anything else. “Now, you are the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen, and it would be a goddamn honor to wreck you, Colfer.” 

“I want you to.”  Chris’ eyes flutter closed as if he can’t quite keep them exposed, the blue too much to be legal during a time like this.  “I want you to top.” 

Darren reacts in the way any other man kneeling next to Chris would:  nods dumbly, jaw slack, eyes light and wide.  “You...ye-yeah.” 

Darren bites his lip and gnaws at it as Chris locks eyes with his and removes the last of his clothes.  “Wanna feel you for all eleven days of this stupid tour.” 

Darren nods again because what else could he do when the hottest person in his life essentially demands the pain that turns to pleasure?  He takes Chris by the waist and flips him breathlessly on the mattress, straddling him from behind.  “Have you ever even-” 

“I know exactly what I’m doing. Do I honestly have to ask you twice?” 

Darren huffs into Chris’ shoulder blade and kisses into the valley of milky skin between the two. His palms work to knead and massage Chris’ ass in a way he hopes translates to a wordless worship.  “Tell me you love me.” 

“Of course I love you, Dare.  Please just fuck me.”  Chris wiggles his ass just a bit as if he’s showing it off.  It is everything and more for Darren - what keeps him up at night and what wakes him up in the morning.  It, as well as its very owner, is Darren’s muse.  The number of nights in his life that he has spent with his own dick in his hand dreaming about having this man melt below him is, frankly, embarrassing, so he vows to himself to make every touch and taste of Chris’ body something that he will never forget. 

Darren is more than aware of Chris’ usual preferences, and this isn’t it.  The weight of the amount of trust he is given now presses down on him like boulders.  It causes Darren’s body to bend, his hands and lips unable to leave Chris’ body for more than a second at a time. 

He sucks.  He sucks for the sake of a splotchy bruise etched into the creamy skin where Chris’ round ass flows into his upper thigh.  He bites and chews and slurps to make a mark of claim on the otherwise flawless flesh.   _That_ belongs to him.  At that particular thought, Darren has to stop for a moment to keep his head from swimming until he passes out.  Some slow-working part of his brain must still have blood flow left, because he promises himself that afterwards he’ll add his mark on to the other cheek, an artist signing his name to what he hopes could very well be his masterpiece. 

He nips one more time, then spreads Chris to catlick at the darker pucker in the center.  The paralyzing grunt that bursts out from the head beneath the pillow is all business.  Chris thrusts his ass back into Darren’s face even more, dominating the moment even from the bottom.  “More,” he growls.  Darren is perfectly happy to comply.   

Darren opens his mouth and embeds his tongue directly into Chris.  Spitting to get the moisture necessary for this type of activity, Darren laps relentlessly within Chris’ scorching hot body.  It’s a little too much teeth and tongue and spit, but apparently it’s working because Chris has started writhing and singing and moaning and crying out abbreviated, bitten-off variations of Darren’s name almost immediately.  Darren takes it as a victory and keeps going.    
  
In the back of his head, Darren’s always thought that he was at least a decent fuck.  He’s had partners who have said he’s the best he’s ever had.  He fools around with new experiments and tactics to see if any of them spark up a new kink or distinct approval.  The one single sexual activity that will always drive him crazy above all else, though, is the taste of Chris. His mouth, his skin, his cock, even the taste of the fucking air when he is nearby.  The man is his own subspecies of aphrodisiac. Present activities not at all excluded.  A close second is when Chris wants to taste himself.  So when Chris yanks roughly at Darren’s hair and makes out with him with those shameless little whimpers spilling out from the edges of their lips, Darren’s about ready to explode right then and there.   

Chris is lapping and tasting like he’s in the midst of a three-course meal.  His hands are tightly woven into the curls at the back of Darren’s head, the kiss is rough.  Darren never wants to let go.   

Chris stops kissing Darren as quickly as he started. 

“Darren.”  He says the words, but Darren can only feel them through the tingle and vibration of his lips against his boyfriend’s.   

“Hmm?” 

“If your cock is not inside me in three seconds or less, we have to break up.” 

Darren smiles against his lips and kisses him some more.  “Can’t do that, babe.” 

Chris pulls away and looks at him, bright eyed and shocked that Darren is not listening the way he usually would.  The way that any other man would if given the fraction of a chance. “Why the hell not?” 

“You’re not ready.  C’mere, turn over.  I’ll do it.” 

Chris rolls his eyes from over his shoulder and tries to blow a lock of sweat-sticky hair off his flushed forehead. “I just told you that I want feel to it.” 

“And I’m telling you no. Chris, you’re not some random fuck that I picked up at a party. You’re my boyfriend. So now it’s time to be a nice little bottom and lay down and prepare to get prepped within an inch of your life.” 

“You are in so much trouble the next time that I get a go at _your_ ass.” Chris hmphs and plops his body back on the bed.  He folds his arms to cradle his head and watches Darren.  Out of the corner of his eye, Darren sees the smirk that flips his stomach.  He sets to work.   

Darren leans in over Chris’ ass to dig a bit through the drawer next to them; his cock is perfectly lined up yet crooked over Chris and he feels Chris clench involuntarily under him.  He grins at the very thought of Chris so desperate, so raw for him and he takes his time in finding what’s needed.   

The sounds Chris is making cause Darren’s fingers to feel even slower and clumsy.  “Shit, listen to you.  Not even I sound this desperate to be fucked.”  He kisses down the ladder of Chris’ ribs on his way back down the bed. 

“Yes, you do.  I’m just too polite to mention it.  God, Dare, come on.  Just fuck me.  This waiting until Christmas act is getting old.” 

“Even Santa Claus knows the importance of lube, babe.  Now relax and let me take care of you.” 

“Darren, I swear to god-” 

“Shhhh.  Your come-dumb drama is distracting.” 

Chris squirms and is eventually defeated, as he has one of Darren’s long, blunt fingers inside of him and curled at exactly the right angle, as though they had ever done this before.  As if they had years to perfect this in more than their own imaginations.   

Chris whines for more and then more again and then more one more time but it’s clearly not nearly enough for either of them to be entirely satisfied so Darren pulls out and wipes his hand on the sheet.  “You okay?” 

“No!”  The answer is petulant and almost childish in a way that someone as dignified as Chris usually isn’t. 

Darren laughs at the bossy little fuck he has in his bed, all for him.  “No?” 

“If I wanted to be fingered to death, I’d fucking do it myself.  Why is your cock still not in me?”  Chris is rambling, genuinely angry with Darren for not reading his mind, for not thinking that he was quite ready for this.   

“Oh shut up, you’re not ready yet.” 

“That’s it.  I’m breaking up with you.” 

“Boo hoo hoo!  I’ll tell everyone Chris Colfer broke up with me because I didn’t put my cock in his ass soon enough.” 

“Just fuck me, stupid.  Wanna feel you.   _Please_.”  At this, Chris’ eyes turn back to Darren and beg him with those bright red cheeks and shining eyes like something out of an Italian Renaissance painting. 

No one in the history of the world has ever been so beautiful, and Darren has to look away for a moment and takes a deep breath in through his nose to keep from giving those liquid sapphire eyes anything they ask. 

“Listen to me, Colfer.”  Darren plops down next to Chris and cups his face, kissing him gently.  “As much as I want to wreck you right now, and yes, fuck you better than anyone ever has, actually hurting you is just not something that I am able to do. You should know that.” 

Chris’ eyes are too shiny, too wet, too vulnerable.  “ _Please_.” 

“All in due time, beautiful.” 

“ _Please_.” 

“Hey.”  Darren kisses him again, smiling into it.  “If you knew how long I’ve been dreaming about being able to finally turn the tables and see _you_ like this for fucking once, you’d understand why I feel the need to take my time and enjoy this.  Don’t deny a guy his fantasy, alright?” 

“I love you, pervert.” 

“I love you, so much.”  Darren grins and pushes himself up to the bottom half of his boyfriend’s body and abruptly stretches his asshole even more.  Chris arches beneath him with a startled noise that makes Darren have to muffle a laugh against the side of Chris’ thigh.   

Darren may be taking his time, he may be extra careful tonight, but he can’t physically hurt Chris so much that it becomes a problem.  And maybe it’s fine to give him some feeling for a few days, but rips and tears happen all too easily.  He remembers.  Distinctly.  Darren’s prepared.   

Finally, finally, Chris seems ready so Darren lines himself up right where Chris has wanted him for the past half hour, six weeks, five years of their lives.   

“Ready, baby?” 

“ _Please_.” 

Darren squirts the lube onto his own cock, and some more into the stretched opening that is not so patiently waiting. 

“Okay.”  Darren is able to line himself up with Chris.  He loves how Chris squirms as soon as they touch, how he breathes a sigh of relief as soon as he starts pushing in.  It’s been a while for Chris, but it’s been even a longer while for Darren in this way.  He almost forgets how to find the rhythm again.  He almost forgets that he needs to wait for the adjustment once he’s all the way inside.  He starts to pull out again immediately, but stalls and goes back in.  “You good?”  Chris’ whimper is every indication of yes, but Darren needs to hear the word.  He needs to make sure he’s taking care of his boy.  He needs to hear yes.  “Babe.  Are you okay?” 

Chris pillows one curled arm beneath his head.  Darren can see him in dazzling profile, scarlet cheeks and honeyed eyelashes.  “Go ahead.”  Chris’ voice already holds a note of the raw after effect of the begging he’s done to get to the point where he could feel his full and spun out.  His body goes lax, pinned down by Darren’s weight and ready to open and receive. 

As Darren drags back up, he feels the pressure disappear little by little, until he’s engulfed in the flame once again.  This goes on for a few thrusts at the same pace until Chris is reaching out behind him to latch onto his thigh in an effort to slam him in harder.  “Shit, Chris!  You want more?  Huh?” 

Chris turns his nose and lips into the flesh of his own forearm, clamping his teeth around the pale skin in an attempt to stifle the words that Darren is prompting from him, even as those flared hips begin to arch back off the bed and into the motions of Darren’s body. It’s too much and he has to release his mouth to breathe, panting Darren’s name when he exhales out. 

“God.  I wanna see you, Chris.  Please.”  Darren pulls out and flips him so he’s on his back again.  “Hi.”  Grinning, he lines up again and pushes in about half way.  “Okay?” 

Chris answers him by letting his eyes flutter closed and using his hands to draw his own legs up higher.  He’s presenting his body to Darren to allow him to own him like this in a way that Chris is unaccustomed to doing, a tender confirmation of the history and trust that they’ve reclaimed.  It’s something that Darren’s dreamt of but never expected to hold in any of his conscious thoughts. Chris sucks in a jagged breath once he’s folded himself into the position that he chooses and he looks up at Darren over him.  “ _Please_.” 

“Jesus, you look so good.”  He rams inside again and thrusts in and out in and out, as he hovers over Chris’ body, performing a pushup to attach his lips to Chris’ and they make out as they adjust to new angles and rhythms. 

One of Chris’ legs wraps around Darren’s body, the heel of his foot digging into the softer, flexing flesh of Darren’s ass.  Chris makes a weak cry into Darren’s mouth, wrenching his head back and releasing a guttural moan that sounds like it’s being torn from the center of his body. It might as well be the center of the universe as far as Darren’s concerned. 

Darren smirks.  “You torture me nearly every fucking night and now it’s your turn.”  He inches himself up just a few inches, forcing his cock to curve up and in until… 

“Fuck! _Right there, right there, right there_!”  Darren feels Chris’ fingernails dig into his shoulder and the delicate silk thin skin of his own inner thigh when Darren begins to pummel the spot inside Chris that must make his vision go white.  Darren knows it must, if only from the most recent experiences.  Chris’ leg falls to the bed, bent at a lazy angle and he can reach between them, gets a hand around himself as Darren watches on, stilling and moving for all it’s worth. 

Delay, not expedite. 

Neither of them are done memorizing this - what Darren feels like moving inside Chris’ body for the first time. 

Darren snakes his arms around the front of Chris’ body and he stretches his spine upward to get just a little bit deeper, a little bit angrier as he destroys Chris from the inside out.   

Chris’ gasping cries become higher in pitch as they work toward different goals, and Chris grabs a handful of sweaty damp raven curls to pull their open mouth together with a crash.  Darren’s tongue is sucked into Chris’ mouth so hard, it feels like it’ll be ripped out. 

There’s too much sensation, too many simultaneous nerves firing and snapping at once.  Darren stiffens, the blur at the edges of his world coming into full play right here and now.  There’s nothing left to do.   

Chris bows his body into an arch below Darren.  “Touch me, touch me.”  Chris’ frantic face is down; he’s staring at the sight of Darren disappearing into him.  Darren is staring at him. 

“Beautiful, you look beautiful.”  Darren wraps his hand around Chris and pulls in sync to his weakened movements.  He decides to go harder and faster, leaving his thumb pressed into Chris’ slit and he screams as they both fly over the edge, head first, without the safety net.   

Chris goes weak before his body is even done rippling through the flames. His legs fall away from Darren’s hips, splayed and heavy against the ruined sheets below them.  He’s silent apart from the harsh pants of breath that are forced out of his lungs every time the Darren moves. 

Darren collapses on top of Chris’ lengthy body with a smile and a kiss to Chris’ neck.  “You are…”  He giggles.  “I hope you’re not too sore tomorrow.” 

Chris licks his lips into a lazy smile without opening his eyes.  “That was the point.” 

“Mmhmm.”  Darren grunts and rolls off of him, lying face down directly next to his boyfriend’s body.  “I don’t like July.” 

It looks like it takes every ounce of energy Chris retains to lift an arm over Darren’s back.  He’s spent and weak limbed. In this state he’d never be able to hold Darren to him if he had a mind to leave.  But it’s a needless action, parting from Chris is the last thing that he wants to do. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one in which Darren has a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Another post Follow My Voice one-shot that takes place about a month after the end of that story. Mainly fluff but also some insight into their minds and how the years they spent so close but so far apart affected them both.

Chris is startled awake, thanks to the swift kick to his ribcage.  It throbs in pain as he lies there, patiently awaiting the ache to subside. Who sleeps with their feet up that high, anyway?  He absently rubs at his side and tries to blink the fog of sleep out of his brain.  That’s when he hears the muttered cry come from beside him in the bed that sounds substantially more pained than he feels.   


“Darren?”   

Darren’s body visibly flinches at the hand Chris places against his chest.  He’s dreaming, and not happily. 

“Dare, wake up.”  Chris’ voice is more stern, alarm racing through his veins as he shakes Darren’s shoulder. 

Darren shoots up, kicking with a yelp.  His face, glistening with sweat, is screwed up and tortured. His eyelashes are wet, his eyes shining even in the pitch dark with unshed tears and that glisten he gets usually in the sunlight.   

Chris isn’t quite sure that he’s ever seen Darren affected by a nightmare before.  It’s a dark place that he himself knows well, but thinking about Darren being stuck there pierces something dark inside him, like he has the need to protect, to nurture.  To make better. 

He sits up behind his boyfriend in bed and places a hesitating, unsure hand on Darren’s shoulder blade.  “Hey.”  His voice seems too loud, cutting in the room.  He swallows and tries again in a softer tone. “What was-” 

“‘m fine.”  Darren looks at Chris quickly and immediately turns away again.  He’s not fine, that much is clear.  And when Chris takes notice of the way that the light shining in through the cracked bathroom door glints off of Darren’s eyelashes, his own face draws with concern.  They’re wet. 

“ _Fine_ people don’t try to fracture my ribs in their sleep.” 

“Go to sleep, babe.  Sorry I woke you.” Darren tries to settle again and obviously deems it impossible very quickly.

Chris watches as Darren swings his legs over the side of the bed and scrubs at his face with the palms of both hands.  Darren’s voice is strained, full of whatever demons were just haunting him behind his eyelids and Chris is now in unfamiliar territory. Chris knows how to deal with his own nightmares... how to shut them away in the pointless nonsense part of his brain or get up and write them down in a ritual of mental exorcism, material to use later.   

He’s never had to comfort anyone through a bad dream aside from Hannah.  Darren might not enjoy his tactics (shadow puppets, Disney songs) as much as his sister tends to.   
“Chris, I’m fine.  Just a stupid dream.”  Darren gets up and disappears into the bathroom.  Chris hears the water turn on and he can only imagine Darren staring at himself, grimacing, in the mirror before splashing water on his face.   

Chris slowly climbs out of bed himself, rooting around for (and then pulling on) his wrinkled underwear from the night before as he goes. He holds Darren’s out to him with a frown as he steps out of the bathroom.  There are certain situations that nudity just sees completely inappropriate for. He watches Darren step back into his own boxer briefs and then drop back into his previous position on the edge of the bed like his body weighs a literal ton. 

“Do you want to talk about it, or...?” 

“I’m fine, Chris.  Really.”

Darren just called him Chris.  Chris looks at him and makes a stern decision in the second it takes to notice Darren’s drying tears.  He approaches and kisses Darren’s right eyelid, his nose, his left eyelid.  “Let’s have a drink.”

“It’s two o’clock in the morning.”  Darren looks so small, so disturbed in the glow of the moon coming through the window.  Chris needs to get him talking; it’s therapy. 

“And I know that you’ve been out far later than that.  Come on.”  Chris pulls at Darren’s hands until he’s standing then situates himself behind him so he can push him along the way by the hips.  Chris spreads his legs wider than he needs to walk so he doesn’t step on Darren’s heels.  He delivers him to sink into the couch and heads to the kitchen to grab a bottle of something and a few glasses.  When the only option is whiskey, he grimaces and decides he’s definitely taking one for the team.  He’ll buy something more palatable tomorrow.

Chris clambers up onto the couch and tugs on Darren’s body until he relents and leans backwards against him, Darren’s clammy back pressed up against Chris’ chest, their legs and feet tangled up alongside one another and hanging off the end of the farthest cushion. Chris maneuvers through the bent elbows and awkward angles it takes to pour them both a drink in this position and then sets the still nearly full bottle down on the floor beside the couch.

“You’re going to have to tell me _something_ , even if you have to make it up.” 

“I have to work tomorrow.”

“You’re not getting off that easily, Dare.” 

Darren sighs heavily, the sound filling up the otherwise silent space around them.  He takes a long sip of the amber colored liquid from his glass, mostly draining it and reaches around blindly beneath them for the bottle.   

“Okay.”  Chris says, all eyes on Darren. “Let’s play a game.” 

“A game.  At two o’clock in the morning before I have to go do two shows.” 

“I’ll guess what it was and you’ll tell me when I’m right.” 

“ _If_ you’re right.” 

“When I’m right.  Was it oversized, giant caterpillars and cockroaches coming to eat you, escaping from the city sewer system like the Ninja Turtles?” 

“Wow, Colfer. You got it right on the first try! Congratulations.” Darren spills a few drops of liquor on his bare chest in the process of trying to refill his glass without sitting up. “Fuck.” He swipes at the spill with his thumb and then licks it clean. 

Chris knocks his knee none too gently against Darren’s thigh, nearly causing another whiskey-related mishap. “No cheating.” 

“Fine.” Darren groans and lets his head fall back against Chris’ shoulder going pretty much limp in his arms.   

That’s almost too easy and it concerns Chris about whatever thoughts are plaguing him even more. 

He chews the inside of his cheek for a moment before venturing a serious guess. “Was it your family or something?  Did you dream that something happened to them? Or maybeâ€¦”  This part is a little uncomfortable, Chris squirms beneath Darren’s weight. “Or to me?” 

“No, I know everybody is fine.” 

“Oh.” 

“You’re not going to give it up, are you?” 

“Probably not.  No.” 

Darren sighs and takes a sip.  “So.  We were at Disneyland.  Your mom, my mom, Chuck.  Dylan, you.”  Darren pauses.  “She was there, too.”

“That’s a weird grouping of people.  Any idea why?  One of the dwarves were trying to touch you in inappropriate places and we were all trying to save you?  Sneezy, right?  I can go kick his ass.” 

Darren barks out a short laugh, seemingly against his will. “You’re kinda fucked up in the head.” 

“But you smiled, so I’ll sacrifice my sanity.”  Chris turns serious, kisses Darren’s shoulder and leaves his chin there.  “Honestly, honey.  Turn your brain off and relax.  Whatever terrible adventure we were up to wasn’t real.  You’re okay.” 

Chris pulls away.  He’s also thinking too hard.  He realizes that all of these people are all important to Darren’s story.  They are people who have affected him in some way or another.  They are people that, in Darren’s often skewed way of thinking, he’s felt he has disappointed before. 

Darren sniffles and leans back on Chris as though the physical connection must not be lost.   

“You don’t have to tell me.  Whatever it wasâ€¦ it was just a dream and I’m right here.  Do you want to watch TV?  Top Chef, Downton, or Atlanta Housewives?” 

Darren makes a face as Chris says the last suggestion that makes him giggle despite himself.  “That’s a trick question.  I know full well that if I say anything other than Downton that you leave me forever.  Don’t think I don’t understand your tests.” 

“Shut up and let me hold my boyfriend until he’s better while we watch all the British thespian royalty American television will let us.” 

“Crazy, huh?  Do you ever step back and look at everything and wonder how we got here?  Did you think we’d get here four years ago?”  Darren pauses to watch McGonagall say something in her delicious, judgy accent.  “I never thought in a million years that you’d ever want me.” 

“You mean how we got to the disgustingly domestic place of drinking and watching PBS at 2:28 in the morning?” Chris snorts. “I’d rather not question that too deeply, thanks.”   
“Answer the question, Colfer.  Was I ever really in your plans?  Why did you come to New York?” 

Chris lets his head fall back onto the padded arm of the couch.  Clearly enjoying some quality time with the Crawley wasn’t actually on the agenda for tonight.  But if it meant taking Darren’s mind off of whatever had made him make the _sound_ earlier, the one that still raises the hairs on the back of Chris’ neck just by thinking about it, he’ll just have to go forward with the honesty.   
“Fine, no. I didn’t plan for any of this, or to get personally tangled up with you again.”  He closes his eyes and tries to bring up the thoughts of a younger, less jaded but more emotionally explosive Chris who had once thought Darren hung the moon and thenâ€¦ “I liked you,  I wanted you, but I never thought you would ever step out from under the lies and phony images you were surrounded by.  That was all too much for me.”  He lifts his head and wraps an arm around Darren’s chest in a loose hug.  “You proved me wrong, and I’m really glad that you did.”   
“You pushed me to be honest with myself, Chris.  I owe you my whole life.” 

“I hate being proved wrong, usually.  But people?  I suck at people.  I can’t talk to anyone about anything like you can.  I misjudged you and I was really harsh and cruel about it sometimes.  But I can’t say I’m not happy things have ended up as they have.”  Chris smiles.  “I really went out on a limb with you when I flew to New York.  I was fully expecting to walk in on you and a new boyfriend or something  Or girlfriend, I guess.”  Chris knows he makes a face, just like he knows Darren will catch it.  But neither of them comment on the afterthought. 

“You didn’t.” 

Chris nods, that much he can agree with.  “Neither of us are remotely the same guys we were then.  If we’d tried it back then, I mean seriously tried, we would probably not be able to stand one another now.  That would have made things even more awkward than they already were.  It was probably for the best."

Chris’ fingers skim along the skin of Darren’s forearm as he remembers those early days when even being around Darren on set felt like someone was constantly sticking tiny needles into his skin.  It hurt and it was so uncomfortable that he would try and hide in his trailer for hours at a time until they would force him back out to shoot. “Even if you had known what to say, I doubt I would have listened.  We were both stubborn asses.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t need to keep apologizing for things that happened a thousand years ago, Dare.  It was a weird time in our lives and, thankfully, it’s over.”  Chris shrugs as best he can with the way he is still wrapped around Darren’s body from behind. 

“Maybe I do.  We never really talked about all of that.  At least, I apparently need to talk about it since it’s haunting me in my sleep.” 

And there it is.  Chris’ chance to support Darren via a session of free therapy.  “How so?” 

“I’m justâ€¦”  A tear falls as sharp as a knife, it splits Chris’ heart in two.  “ _Chris_.” 

“Hey, hey, don’t.”  Chris instinctively tightens his arms around Darren’s midsection like something or someone is going to come along and rip him away.  Again.  “Dare, listen to me, okay?  If you need to talk about this for you, I’ll listen, but you don’t need to say any of this for my benefit.  I know already. I know.”  He hides his face in Darren’s neck away from what could be a potentially scary conversation for them both.  So many wasted chances, so many mistakes. 

“At Disney, you and I were running down Main Street, hand-in-hand, but away from the castle.  We were going hard, like we were running from something and we were scared but I didn’t know why.  My mom and your mom were crying, trying to stop us from wherever we were going.  Like all of this isn’t right.  There were fans lined up at the exit and they were crying, too.  You led me out and we got separated and I remember having to tear myself through all the crazies to find you but I couldn’t, and I started to panic because it felt like you were just ripped away and then the girls started to tell me that you were never coming back because I’ve ruined you and that you don’t love people who can’t be role models.  Or something.  It was so fucked up.” 

Chris feels all the blood drain out of his face.  Of course.  “You think you’re going to let someone down no matter what you choose to do.”  When the full realization hits him, Chris picks up his forgotten drink from the end table and drains it in one gulp.  His sputters and coughs as his eyes water from the burn of the alcohol down his throat and into his empty stomach.   
“It’s kinda what I do, Chris.  I mean, what about these poor girls who figured out they were gay because of us?  No one should look up to me because I’m a fucking liar.” 

“Okay, wait, hold on.”  Chris thumps himself on the chest to try to knock the spasming cough away and regain his breath. Darren laughs quietly and tries to turn around between his legs, before Chris stops him with a firm hand on either shoulder.  “I’m fine. _Eugh_.”  The inhale he takes burns going through his esophagus. “Alright. Two things. First, your taste in liquor is horrible and I think I may be getting an ulcer from this shit.  Secondly, I know better than just about anyone how weird it is to suddenly have the world look at you differently - and in your case it literally is the whole entire world - but all the people who actually know and love you, Dare, they know exactly who and what you are. You haven’t let any of those people down, you couldn’t. Not just by choosing to live your life.”  Chris clears his throat and tries to stop wheezing by the end of the short speech. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”  Darren looks at Chris over the rim of his glass.   

“If I die from drinking this, I’m haunting you so hard.” 

Darren laughs at the bitchy glare Chris shoots him, before he is pulled back to rest against his boyfriend’s firm chest once more. 

“You do believe that, right?” 

“Believe what?” 

“That I intend to make your life miserable from the grave.”  Chris rolls his eyes.  “That no one who honestly cares about you has been hurt in the making of your life.” 

“I guess it’s hard to remember when my subconscious swears I’m fucking everyone’s life up just by being.” 

“I think that’s slightly over-dramatizing things. Yes, I know things are a little confusing-” 

Chris is cut off by Darren’s disbelieving snort. “A little?” 

“Yes.” He flicks the back of Darren’s ear with the fingers of one hand. “A little.” 

The silence exasperates the heaviness between them.  Darren’s clearly thinking it over in his head, trying to justify his decisions that led him here to Chris’ arms.  Chris waits patiently, confident that he’ll figure it out sooner than later.  A few minutes pass before Darren straightens his back again.  “Do _you_ understand the way I see my sexuality?”   

All the air is suddenly forced out of Chris’ body like he’d been punched in the stomach.  It’s a question he’s asked himself for so long, and for so many varied reasons, that any answer he gives will probably feel insufficient and not properly express how he’s come to consider who Darren is and the way he feels.  When all other avenues are lost, Chris goes with what he does know.  “I don’t know.  I just know the way I see _you_. You’re an honest person who was dishonest because you got a lot of shitty advice from people you trusted implicitly. You’reâ€¦ you’re Darren. You’re this brave, stupidly talented, amazing man who loves so hard and so fully that you usually hurt yourself in the process. You love people for who they are and not what they have in their pants.  That about sum it up?” 

“Ye-yeah.  Do I go public about this?  Explain why I did what I did?” 

Chris’ eyes go wide.  Another hell of a loaded question.  “I- I guess that’s up to you.  Some people still may not get it. But if I know you like I think I do, you wouldn’t want to put someone you once thought of as a friend on the line like that. The scrutiny?  It’s tough, we both know that. You’d have to answer so many questions that could be hard to answer without pointing fingers and laying blame.  I mean, do you really want that?”

“You missed your calling to become a publicist, Colfer.” 

Chris knees him in the leg again.  “Shut up. I’m just saying that you can do what you’ve been doing, and show that you make your own choices now.  Decide how to live your life by living it, and let that speak for itself.  That seems to be working for you lately.”  He tucks a wisp of dark hair that’s been bugging him securely behind Darren’s ear and lets out a long breath. “None of these decisions are easy and they all have consequences. But being incredible and being yourself is the biggest fuck you that you could ever give to anyone who’s ever tried to hold you back.”   
“I think I know where all of this came from.  I talked to Ricky.” 

“And?” 

“He told me that I needed to not be seen with you in public so he can submit me to the next _Transformers_ movie.” 

“Oh.”  Chris feels his nostrils flare a little as he takes a deep breath in.  Nothing about that should surprise him, but he can’t help but still feel angry on Darren’t behalf.  Fuck, on both of theirs.   
“I don’t even want to do movies.  Not right now.  And I definitely don’t want to sacrifice you to do them.  He doesn’t understand that Iâ€¦ I’m finally sort of comfortable in a relationship and just because it happens to not be with a predetermined woman, he’s throwing all these straight roles in my face in hopes that I cave for the right one.  You read for that James Dean remake, remember?  And no one was scared you’d take it with your sexuality.  I just-”  Darren sighs and rubs his eyes.  “I think it’s more them than the industry as a whole.” 

Chris nods.  He’s been lucky, he’s never had any shortage of parts that he’s been asked to read for and people willing to work with him, especially after the whole Golden Globe thing. But there are always going to be roles he isn’t considered for and things he can’t do just because he’s gay, and now Darren is going to be painted with the same stigma.  It’s an unavoidable fact of the business they’re in. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think there’s a casting director out there who could resist you if you turned the smile on and went after something you really wanted.” 

“Yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

“I intend to. But hey, you’re smirking, that’s an improvement over the tears.” 

“You bring out the best, baby.” 

“I try.”

“Love you.” 

Chris giggles, the novelty hasn’t worn off and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing it.  “You should.  I drank battery acid for you.” 

“I love you too, Darren.  You’re so handsome, Darren.”  Darren rolls his eyes. 

“Not to mention humble.” Chris snickers and smothers a yawn against one of Darren’s sharp shoulder blades.  He pecks his lips again against the blotch of discolored skin on Darren’s upper back and settles with his cheek pressed against the nape of his neck.  It’s late, and he knows that while he can sleep in a little, they both have things that they have to do the next day, but nothing else is as important as what he is doing right now. 

“Come on, Colfer.  You need your beauty rest.  I’m better now, I promise.” 

They shuffle back into the bedroom, Darren following Chris to his side of the bed, obviously so he could tuck him in. 

“You’re so stupid.”  Chris lies down and stares up at Darren as he brings the covers over his body.  “Sleep, my pretty.” 

“That’s not even a real quote.”

Darren shrugs and climbs over Chris’ body into the dip of the mattress on his side.   

Chris wriggles around on his beck, trying to find his comfortable position when he sees Darren turn back over to face him with his head propped up on one hand. 

“Yes?” 

“I wish I knew everything I know now four years ago.” 

Chris laughs and scrunches his pillow up behind his neck.  “That would have been pretty boring for you.  It’s been a crazy ride, but at least it was ours right?” 

“Can you stop successfully talking me off the edge for a second and just let me be a brat?” 

“One of us needs to be mature in this relationship.” 

“Whatever, Colfer.” 

“I am so mature, in fact, I could have drawn social security before I had my driver’s license.  Any issues with dating an honorary senior citizen?” 

“That could very well be my favorite thing about you, actually.  Thanks for this, babe.  You always make me feel good.” 

“A wise and mature response.  Clearly, I’m a great influence if I can change what comes out of _your_ mouth.” 

“Dribbles of your come any day of the week?” 

“... and you’ve ruined it.  Again.” 

“Nah, I just made it better.  Sex sells, Colf.” 

Chris snickers and then turns to mirror Darren’s casual position. “But if you really _want_ to talk about how incredible I am in bed...” 

“You’ve sparked my interest.  Elaborate.” 

Chris teasingly runs the arch of his foot along one of Darren’s legs with a wide, feline grin. “You’re not the only one who’s learned new things about themselves in the last few years.” 

Darren laughs out loud.  “Word.  Have you seen yourself?”  Darren touches Chris’ chest as if he’s savoring it to memory.  “Bet I’m the best you ever had though.” 

“You want me to honestly answer that?”  Chris smirks.  “You have certain, uh, skills, I guess.  I’ll give you that much.” 

Chris watches as Darren tries not to show annoyance at the frank answer, and his face fails. 

“Who’s the best you ever had, then?  How do I compare?”

Chris pauses and turns his voice wistful, reflective. “He was... a few years older than me.  Mesmerizing eyes, adorable smile, an ass to die for.  It didn’t last long at all, but I guess that’s a good thing.  It was.  Memorable.” 

Darren nods.  “And how did he com- oh.”  Darren blushes and looks down.  “Right.” 

He laughs and shoves Darren over to lie flat on his back on the mattress.  Chris pins his arms down and laughs at the stunned looked on Darren’s face.  “Yes, idiot. You’re good.  Would I really be here right now if you weren’t?”

Darren makes a comical contemplative face that Chris can’t help but kiss right off of his lips.  This feels good, it feels right and like something that’ve been doing for a lot longer than the few short weeks he has been here in New York.  “You were the first person who ever made me feel so wanted that it was hard to even breathe, at least the first person I wanted _back_ that way.  You were always going to be special to me because of that.” 

“There were people before you.  A few of them, I thought I cared about.  But fucking A, Christopher.  What I feel for you?  It’s more than I even thought I had to offer to anyone.  It’s probably way too soon, I mean.  It’s only been a month, right?  But I think that maybe you’re never going to be able to get rid of me.  What do you think about that?” 

Chris’ mind is flooded with a flickering film reel of images.  Memories that once only made him sad and resentful, now feel colored with a bittersweetness that only comes from time and experience.  He and Darren have certainly had more than their share of both. 

“I think it’s hard to say if we’ve only been together for a month or for five years in our own screwed up, backwards way. I’m happy now.  That’s all that matters.” 

“What anniversary date will we tell the kids?”  Darren gasps, shocking himself.  “Shit, sorry.  Way too soon.”

Chris shoves him roughly in the chest with both hands, and flops back over onto his side of the bed.  “Maybe just a bit, yeah.” 

But even if Chris can’t _say_ things as openly as Darren does all of the time, it doesn’t mean he isn’t caught up in the whirlwind of feelings old and new that this man pulls out of him with every smile, and song, and touch. He’s in love with him.  Part of him always was. 

“You know how I feel though, right?”  His voice is soft and floats above the bed in the still, whisper-quiet air. 

Darren nods.  If he opens his mouth, there’s no doubt that he’ll cry. 

Chris reaches out a hand blindly through the space on the mattress between them and finds Darren’s fingers with his.  “Think you can get some sleep?” 

“Yeah.  Right after you tell me all about your second best fuck.  If your ex-partners aren’t porn stars already, they definitely should be.” 

Chris laughs. “Not a porn star, but he was an athlete. Tall, muscles that you would not bel-” 

“Nope, changed my mind.  I didn’t want to know about him, Colfer.  I wanted to know how he sexed you.  Forget it.” 

Chris rolls back over and slings an arm over Darren’s waist. “I don’t remember a lot of details, actually. Most of the guys that I slept with, I was always kinda trying to find you in there, and it didn’t exactly work. Maybe you ruined me.  Ashhole.” 

“Good thing you’re stuck with me, then.”  Darren grins at Chris and nips at him.  He speaks his next words with a mouthful of Chris’ lip.  “I love you.”

Chris’ heart stutters just as much as the first time he’d heard the words and he grins beneath the press of Darren’s mouth. “Enough to let me get three hours of sleep before your alarm goes off?” 

“Sorry for waking you.” 

“Don’t be.  It’s in the boyfriend job description, and I’ll be sure to remember this the next time I need an hour long back massage or have a craving for takeout in the middle of the night."

Chris traces the smiling creases around one of Darren’s eyes with his thumb.. They look so much better than the tears had.  His voice is softer when he speaks again.  “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be right here the whole time.” 

“Mmmm, kay.”  Darren’s snoring before Chris has the chance to turn away. 

He watches the rise and fall of Darren’s chest in the shadow lit bedroom for several minutes before he rolls over to face the opposite wall. 

“I love you, too.” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one that gets leaked on the Internet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a cute moment in time that sort of aligns with real life right now... enjoy!

“Chris?  You okay?  What the fuck time is it?” 

“What the hell have you done, Dare?!  I can’t believe-” 

“Hey!  Why are you yelling at me?” 

“Check your fucking Tumblr and call me back as soon as you figure it out, Darren.”  And then Darren gets hung up on by Chris for the first time in his life.   

He abides by Chris’ request.  He knows it’s serious but he has no idea what he could have possibly done to get such a wake up call.  Much less the other five missed calls and three texts he finds sitting on the screen of his phone.  Logging onto Tumblr as soon as his computer boots up has never been so hard. 

**_So last night, I met Darren Criss._**

**_I made my boyfriend hit on him, just to see what he would do.  And then he proclaimed his undying love for Chris and his, um, assets.  LOL.  Click for the video!_**

“Oh, fuck.”  Darren clicks the video and turns the sound all the way down; he has a hangover from hell.  His own self is dancing all around the crowd of Marie Crisis’ as he wails the fluid notes of Judy Garland’s seminal version of “If Love Were All”. 

_...but I believe that since my life began, the most I've had is just a talent to amuse..._

The music fades out and Darren sees himself clearing his throat, as if some big speech should come after that song.  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh sweet mother of fuck, no.” 

On-screen Darren smiles and waves at the crowd, a tiny highball glass in his hand and its contents splashing wherever it lands.  “I’ve been hit on a lot tonight, and I just thought I’d let you all know that I have a beautiful, gorgeous, fucking great-in-bed boyfriend who’s currently touring the country and being the amazing author that he is.  He was on TV with me, you know, for which he won a Golden Globe.  I mean, not for being there with me but for being fucking _amazing_ on that show that I was also on.”  On-screen Darren rolls his eyes and takes a sip.  Real life Darren wants to die.  “He’s got like, these eyes that are… Well, they’re _some_ fucking color that I don’t know cause no one has thought up a name for it yet.  Fucking crazy, man.  But no! Hey, hey! Stop!  I see you, sir, and while you are probably the hottest old dude I’ve ever seen… Chris is... he is… a perfect human and I have fallen so much further in love with him this summer than I ever thought would be possible when I first met him years ago, back when Kurt and Blaine were barely teenage virgins or whatever.  He is… Chris makes me better and I love him more than I love myself.  So yeah.  I’m not going to ruin that just to get off with all you randoms.  So yeah, I’m flattered.  Really.  You are all such great looking New Yorkers, but I can’t.  I won’t.” 

Some guy off screen hackles drunk Darren.  “...Must be a good fuck!” 

On-screen Darren’s eyes light up in that excited way they do when there’s pepperoni on his pizza that he didn’t pay for, or if the train is there right as he swipes his Metrocard.  “Dude!  You don’t even know!  The best!  He takes me places I’ve never been with anyone ever before.  His balls, dude.  Like, they’re so fucking cute.  Even if the left one doesn’t quite fit in my mouth all the time with the right.  Especially if he’s seriously ready.  Yeah.  So that’s it.  Next round’s on me!  Let’s drink and sing some motherfucking tunes!” 

The video cuts out and Darren blinks at the dark screen.  “Shit.”  He fumbles his phone and it flies out of his hands and skids across the room.  “Shit!”  He dives after it and punches his finger on Chris’ name. 

“I’m listening.”  The voice is so calm, and secry flat that it sends a nervous tremor down the length of Darren’s spine. 

“Oh my God.  Shit, Chris.  Fuck, I’m so sorry.  Please.  Fuck!” 

The sigh that crackles through the tiny speaker in Darren’s phone sounds strong enough to knock his entire body over.  Hurricane force.  “Are you still drunk?  Your vocabulary sounds even more limited than usual.”  There’s very little bite in Chris’ voice, which makes Darren feel about a million times worse.  Chris sound defeated and tired.  Shit. 

“Probably a little.  Chris, babe…” 

“Do you have any idea how much damage control Alla has been running all fucking morning?  This isn’t a game, Darren.  You don’t get to just… say anything about me and have it be okay by the time your hangover has lifted.” 

Darren lets his head fall down into his hand.  “No, Chris. I know, I do.  I’m just… I was drunk and-” 

“There is absolutely no excuse good enough for this, Darren.  Especially the one where you drank too much. You know how difficult this tour has been for me.  I have to face hundreds of people every day day who are already judging the shit out of me, mainly because of us!  But I have to do this.  I’m dealing with it all _for you_. Because I want to make all this work.  And in return you go out and get trashed and humiliate me?  Alla took my phone away for hours.  I just now got a chance to even call you, because my phone literally blew up in the middle of the night!” 

“Well, don’t spare me any favors.  What do you think, Chris?  I’m just sitting here with a thumb up my ass waiting for you to come home?  Six days a week, I’m answering questions about you at stage door, too.  I do everything I fucking do for you.  We are in this together, okay?  I fucked up and I’m sorry.  I just… miss you.” 

“ _Darren_.”  This time when Chris says his name in a heavy sigh, at least Darren can hear an ounce of the man he loves so much it causes his chest to ache in there underneath the anger and crippling disappointment.  “I miss you too.  But I’ve only been gone for a week!  You can’t… What’s going to happen when I’m gone for a month?  For three months?  Are you going to get shitfaced and give a play by play of every single time we’ve ever fucked to the entire population of Manhattan?” 

“I’m sorry.  I’ll get shitfaced at home next time.  I’ll call Dylan or something.” 

“Dammit, Darren.” He can almost see Chris’ paper white face, and sleepless bloodshot eyes as he paces across a generic looking hotel room a thousand miles away.  Upset, alone, and completely out of Darren’s reach. 

Darren lies back again, stares at the ceiling.  “Where are you today?” 

“We’re in Texas.  It’s a big one this afternoon.  About seven hundred people, I think.” 

Darren feels the nausea twist in his stomach.  “Fuck.  I’m sorry.”  No amount of times he says it will feel sufficient enough for the firing squad Chris is about to have to go and face. 

“Yes, and more than half of those will only want to ask me about you. The other half will likely be about my balls.” 

“I get it, babe.  I know I fucked up.  I’m _sorry_.”  A call beeps in and he removes the phone from his ear to see who it is.  “Of course.”  It’s Chuck. 

There’s rustling on the other end of the call like Chris is moving around.  “I’m not going to say it’s okay.  It’s not.  Darren, if we’re going to do this, you can’t do things like this to me.  It’s not just your image and reputation you’re holding up out there now.  It’s mine too.  We want people to believe that there’s a reason that it makes sense for us to be together.  I know that it does, but…” 

“If?  Aren’t we already fucking doing it?  Stop making me feel like you’re going to leave me.”  Darren swallows the ball of tears lodged in his throat.  “Please.” 

“I’m not.  I couldn’t walk away from you if I wanted to.  Which, for the record, I don’t.  Just try to remember that we’re both putting our careers on the line here.  Okay?  Can you do that for me?” 

“ _Anything_.  God, Chris.  I love you so much.” 

The stilted laughter that Darren hears next soothes him more than an entire bottle of Advil.  Fuck, morphine.  “I know.  I love _you_ , dummy.”   

“Fucking shit, I can’t even hide today.  I have so much to do.”  It’s Monday.  It’s run around the city and get everything accomplished day. “Serves me right.  If you’re not hiding, I definitely can’t either.” 

Chris hums his agreement. “Good luck with that.  I’m sure your Twitter timeline is every bit as amusing as mine today.  Who invented that shit anyway?  Can we go beat them up? I have swords.” 

Darren knows Chris is trying to make him crack a smile, and it works, but just barely.  “I don’t think that assaulting some millionaire software developer is going to help either of our images, babe.” 

“Jack Dorsey.  That’s who invented Twitter.” 

“Okay.”  Darren cracks a laugh then.  He grabs his phone, presses the button to put Chris on speaker, and navigates to Twitter.  He types.   

**Sorry for my douchebaggery, everybody.  I’m an idiot, but an idiot in love. @chriscolfer**

Chris’ voice comes out of the cell phone speaker and fills the room with a light that doesn’t manage to make Darren’s head throb.  “You going to be okay?  Bet your head is fucking killing you.” 

“I’m pretty sure I had three bottles of Johnnie Walker last night.” 

“Poor thing.  Drink a lot of water and juice today, you’re going to be completely dehydrated before tomorrow’s show. Do I really have to tell you how to look after yourself?  You’re almost fucking thirty.” 

“Did you know it’s in my contract with Hedwig to not even drink?  I’m so fucked.”  Darren grins to himself.  “Love you.” 

“Hm. Whatever you say.  Anyway, I need to get going.  It’s going to be a long fucking day and I need to make sure my team gets in all their judgemental looks before we set off for all of the other judgemental looks.” 

“I’m sorry.  Tell Alla I’m sorry.” 

“I’ll tell her.  You just take care of yourself.  I’d kind of like my boyfriend alive and whole when I get back home, okay?”  Neither of them comment on the fact that Chris refers to New York as home instead of LA.  They don’t have to;  it just is.   

“Feel free to live blog the wank questions and tag me in all of them so I can share the embarrassment.  Love you.” 

“God, you _are_ a masochist.” Darren gets treated to one more of Chris’ quiet little laughs before the call ends and Chris’ picture blinks away from the screen of his phone. 

“We _are_ in this together, Colfer.”  He grins at the darkened phone and throws it on the night table before collapsing into bed again. 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the one in which Chris Colfer is allergic of the "B" word.

“What is this called?” Chris’ brows furrow together as he mixes a concoction of spices in with the flour Cerina will use for the breading.

Cerina laughs, throws her head back in pure joy. “What you’re making is just Spicy Paparika Chicken. I’m making Kaldereta.”

“Mama,” Darren looks up from his computer. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, having had ignored them both up until now. “There’s only four of us. You don’t need to make both.”

“I want to make sure Christopher will have something to eat if he doesn’t like the Kaldereta.”

“Oh! I’ll be fine. Really. If I can stomach Darren’s cooking, I can eat anything.”

Darren looks at him and raises an eyebrow. “Do you even know what Kaldereta is, Colfer?”

Chris glances down into the pot full of brownish-red, simmering sauce on the stove. He was pretty sure he could pick out the smell of a few of the spices Darren kept in their own cabinet and onion, but beyond that he had no earthly idea. “I’m guessing meat of some kind? Onions?”

Darren laughs at the clear thoughts swimming around in Chris’ head. He comes up behind Chris and kisses beneath his ear. “Goat meat and liver.”

Chris feels his stomach clench and he tries to school his face into a look that is a little less horrified and green for Darren’s mother’s benefit, without much luck. “Oh… It… Uhh.”

“Darren Everett!” Cerina snaps her towel against Darren’s leg. “Get out. It is not goat meat, Amang. It’s just beef.”

Darren grabs his drink glass off of the counter and laughs like he is honestly that most amusing creature in the world as he takes his seat at the table again. Chris shoots him a pointed glare over his shoulder. This is the first time Darren’s family has all been over to the apartment since Chris has been back, and Darren seems hell-bent on doing something to embarrass him.

“I’m sure it will be amazing.” He gives Cerina a little smile that she misses because she is entirely focused on her sauce. “At least some of us are helping!” He raises his voice without turning away from the chicken breast he is cutting into even cubes.

“Me and Chuck are helping tame your wild image on Tumblr.”

That brings Chris to spin around. “Darren, if you are posting stuff on the damn website...”

“We don’t post anything! We just like to look.” Chuck chimes in without his eyes on anything but the scrolling computer screen. “Oh, shit. Dare, look at this one!”

Chris tries not to let his face show any sign of curiosity when both brothers bend their heads closer together over the laptop screen and matching wicked grins spread across their faces.

“My boyfriend totally wants to know what picture we’re staring at.” Darren flickers his eyes up to Chris, who looks away just as quickly.

“I honestly couldn't care less, you idiot.” Chris goes back to his cutting board and tries to block out the loud snickering from behind him.

“No, wait. I think you should see this one. Please?”

Chris sighs heavily. He’ll never understand Darren’s (and Chuck’s, for that matter) fascination with a website comprised of predominantly sexually frustrated fangirls. He wipes his gooey hands off on a dish towel. “What is it this time? Are we astronauts? Half raccoon? Do I have any tentacles growing out of strange places?” 

Darren tilts his head, staring harder at the screen. 

“Oh.”

Chris walks behind Chuck and Darren and yelps when the picture on the screen comes into focus. “Darren! Oh my God.” There, teasingly on the screen, is a moving drawing of a very intimate moment in which a piece of said drawing disappears into another piece of it. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Chris’ hands fumble to slam the top of the laptop down, while Darren laughs hysterically, struggling to hold it open. “We are so trying that sometime.”

“I’m not sure if either one of you are that limber, kids.” Chuck leans back in his chair with a loud laugh and reaches for his beer bottle on the table.

“Your mother is standing ten feet away. Can you please stop trying to embarrass me now? This is all so immature.” Chris gives up the fight and folds his arms defensively over his chest.

“And Mama knows what two, consenting adults do together. She made two perfect children, after all.”

“Oh my God. Please, Darren.” Chris turns to him and stares at him, utterly broken and freaking out. He hopes he comes off the as the epitome of humiliation.

“Well, she made one perfect child and one hell of an annoying mistake.” Chuck shoves Darren away from the laptop, and closes out of the browser window for poor Chris’ benefit.

Chris crosses the kitchen and goes back to dicing the chicken. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cerina quietly giggling under her breath and he can’t help but smile broadly at her.

With the insanity that made up their schedules, he and Darren hadn’t had a lot of time to spend with either of their families in the few months previously to today. There were movies to film, new roles, long hours in Midtown basement recording studios, and none of that allowed them even quality time to see each other, let alone anyone else they love. The precious time that they did find was usually greedily hoarded away and guarded from any and every thing the outside world could throw at them. Even after almost a year together, Chris is insanely protective of their personal lives.

But this gorgeous, golden lit afternoon is an exception. Darren’s parents were in town for a few days of grandchildren spoiling and relaxation, and Cerina and Darren’s older brother gathered at the apartment to eat dinner and convince Darren’s mom that none of her boys were wasting away in starvation, while Grandpa stayed up in Westchester with the runts. The thought that he, himself, might be one of Cerina’s boys now fills him with a kind of skin tingling warmth and comfort that he can’t help but feel when the air around him is so saturated with laughter and ease. There are no tense silences of passive judgements here. It’s nice, easy. He can’t help but wonder, as he stirs the food in the pan in front of him, what it would have been like to grow up in a family like this one. He cuts the thought process short. He’s done with looking back. Chris is here now, and this is exactly where he wants to be.

Cerina takes over the frying and the stirring and the concocting; she tells Chris to go relax with the boys. He smiles at her, rinses off his hands, and picks up Brian, totally ignoring Darren and Chuck, and heading into the living room. He switches on the television and starts browsing Netflix aimlessly. 

Chris doesn’t make it past three screens of options before Darren is flopping down next to him, slinging a heavy arm over his shoulder, and disrupting the cat from his lap.

“Move, beast. My Chris.”

“You are so cruel.”

“I’m not cruel, I’m territorial. He gets hair all over my pillow, and it’s not cool, man!” Darren tilts his head to one side and directs his voice towards the grumpy feline glaring up at him from the floor. 

“Brian loves you, though. He wouldn’t sleep on your pillow if he didn’t like your scent.”

Darren’s eyebrows crinkle closer together. “I don’t know if I find that kinda sweet or really fucking creepy. Either way…” He pulls his legs up to tuck them underneath his body and nuzzles his head into the side of Chris’ neck. Chris can feel Darren’s lips stretched into a grin against his skin. “My Chris right now.”

Chris looks at Darren then back to the screen. “Downton or Orange?”

“I thought we agreed that I passed that particular test? The correct answer is whatever you want to watch.”

Chris can hear Darren’s mother laugh loudly from where she stands over the stove. “You’re training him!”

Chris smirks. “It’s been a tedious, hard fought battle. We’re almost there.”

Chuck either begins to choke the words “dick whipped” from where he is pulling up pictures on the computer, or he bit into one of the chillies Chris had sliced a while ago.

“I’m still in the room!” Darren pulls away from Chris’ side with a dejected look. “Brian can just have you back then, asshole.”

“Nuh uh. My Darren.” Chris kicks out with one long leg, pinning Darren down onto the couch and scooting closer across the cushions. “Besides, I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not, but Brian has become a two owner cat. I caught him looking for you the other day. Once a cat starts looking for you to operate the can opener, that’s a lifelong commitment. You’re pretty much stuck.”

Darren’s lips twitch with the desire to break back out into a wide grin. “Well, damn. The cat says I’m stuck.”

“Dammit, Darren. I was so mad at you three minutes ago. Stop.”

Darren’s eyes go wide and innocent. “Don’t blame me for being irresistibly adorable! Blame that woman in there, she hatched me. Hey, Ma!” Darren calls out over the back of the couch. “Chris is mad at you!”

Chris yanks Darren’s body back down and puts his head on Darren’s shoulder. “Dare, I’m serious. I really don’t want to mess this up and you need to stop humiliating me in front of your family. Please.”

Darren traces the frowning lines around Chris’ mouth with two fingers. “I’m just playing with you. That’s what my family does. They adore you.”

“Ease me into it, then. This isn’t exactly… what I’m used to, and I am freaking out a little here. This may be how you interact with your family, but that’s not the case with me. So can you please cut me some slack here?”

Darren’s face turns serious, but his eyes locked onto Chris’ face are still soft and full of so much unspeakable emotion that it almost makes Chris want to back away. Even now. “I’ll behave myself. But you remember that every person here loves you, alright?”

“I love you.” Caught up in the jewel-like amber and greens in Darren’s eyes, Chris leans forward to press his lips against his, until he’s startled away by the sound of dishes moving in the kitchen. He licks at his bottom lip nervously. “Should we be in there? Are we being rude right now?”

“Nah, I’m pretty much banned from the kitchen when my mother is around. You start one little fire trying to make mac and cheese when you’re nine and the shit follows you for life.”

Chris laughs loudly, as if it bubbles out of him unexpectedly and fiercely. He looks at Darren and rushes into the kitchen with all his fear of not being accepted in the pit of his stomach. “Chuck! Tell me the mac and cheese story.”

Darren’s brother looks up from staring dazedly at the pictures of his two-year old on the computer screen. “Oh, uh are we talking about the fire mac and cheese story or the time that Darren stopped eating anything else for a month or two?”

“Of course you have two mac and cheese stories.” Chris sits at the table. “First tell me the one about how my boyfriend set boiling water on fire.”

Darren groans while walking back into the room, scratching sheepishly at the back of his head. “I was home by myself and got hungry, so I just dumped the box of noodles into a pot with some water and I kinda forgot about it and went to take a snooze on the couch.”

Chris smirks. “You said you were nine? Surely, you knew all about evaporation by then.” 

Cerina makes a quiet tsking noise from across the kitchen. “You could have killed yourself, Pogi. I don’t think this story is funny at all.”

Chuck’s head turns away from the laptop. “Oh, it’s funny. Darren was grounded for a month, which means they took his Playstation and guitars away. And mom got to remodel the kitchen.”

“Of course. Your guitars. When you were nine.”

“I was a very advanced nine year old!” Darren shoves at Chris and saunters over to pick at the food his mother is currently dishing up. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You were a statewide debate champion when you were what? Ten?”

“Fifteen, idiot. I am very passionate about the issues of the world.”

Chris watches as Cerina smacks at Darren’s arm with a dirty mixing spoon, causing him to jerk it back with a frown. “No, you just like to argue. You’re great at it.”

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

Chuck pulls his phone out. “Aw. Look at this. This kid is the most adorable little girl in the world, right? Connor’s sleeping, so no pics of the mini-me, Dare. Sorry.” 

Behind him Darren shrugs, while Cerina loudly and readily agrees. Chris smiles at the picture politely and looks at the toothy grin of the toddler. If he was being honest, he tended to think most kids looked alike and were strange, alien little creatures. “She’s precious.”

“I’m precious!” Darren pipes up over their shoulders.

“No, you’re arrogant.” Chris is quick to counter. Maybe there’s still some debate team champ left in him, after all. Chris snuffs down the urge to call Darren a few more choice names with a tight smile, and sits down beside to Chuck to look at about a thousand and one nearly identical photographs of Darren’s niece.

“You better be next, boys.” Cerina cheerily exclaims. “I’ve always wanted-”

Chris feels the bile in his throat, can taste his stomach’s acid coming up to play. He must turn as white as a ghost; his legs feel like lead but he manages to get up and rush into the bedroom while muttering something like “excuse me” he thinks.

Chris barely catches a glimpse of Darren’s round eyes before he makes his mad dash out of the room, but it was enough to recognize the concern in them. Chris pulls the door shut behind him and leans back against it, breathing short and erratic breaths. He can distantly register Darren’s voice rising and falling from back in their kitchen, but Chris’ mind is whirling with too much blind panic to even begin to try and eavesdrop. The simple act of moving in with Darren a few months ago, was by far the largest and most profound act of commitment that he has ever willing stepped into. He’s learning, but it’s a process. The thought of anything beyond that… No.

“Babe?” Darren knocks lightly on the bedroom door.

“I’m fine!” He isn’t. His voice is high and shot through with panting breaths.

“You’re not. Can I come in?”

Chris can’t very well deny Darren entry to the bedroom that they have shared for almost a year. He moves his body away from the door and turns the knob slowly. 

Darren stands still and worried looking on the other side.

“I’m fine. Go… go talk to your family.”

Darren pushes through and sits on their bed. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I...” Chris wrings his fingers into a tight knot before he catches himself and shakes his hands out by his sides. He’s been making such a conscientious effort to lower his anxious mannerisms lately and, for the most part, it’s been working. Though usually he isn’t confronted with the idea of something as utterly terrifying as full on adulthood, as children..

“Dare.”

“I know. Shhh, we don’t have to talk about it.” Darren gathers Chris’ head into his arms and kisses Chris’ hair.

Chris draws in long breaths and allows the scent of Darren’s aftershave and their brand of fabric softener to fill his lungs and his rapidly beating heart. It takes a few moments, but it works. He feels the iron bands surrounding his chest release and he can breathe in and out freely again.

“I love you so much and if we decide we need to house forty-seven cats instead of children, I will be right there with you. Okay?”

Still too afraid to look at anything else, Chris shakes his head against Darren’s shoulder. “Your mom just said-”

“Maybe Mom needs to mind her own business.”

“Darren, that’s your mother. C’mon. We both know that’s not about to happen.” Chris looks up into Darren’s eyes and even manages a tiny one-sided smirk.

“Look at you, beautiful.” Darren tilts his head and wipes Chris’ tears away. “You just let it carry you away, that emotion?”

Letting out a frustrated groan, Chris twists himself away from Darren’s arms and hastily mops at his wet face with his shirt. He hates getting all bent out of shape over things that most people his age would just laugh or shrug off, it just isn’t who he is.

“Do you believe me when I say that I want you to be it? Does that scare you?”

Chris sits down on the edge of their bed, still twisting the cotton of his pale blue button down with his fingers. “A lot of things scare me. You’re not one of them. But that out there…”

Darren sits down beside him, not touching, but close. “That out there was what?”

Chris’ lips twist tight. “If you were with… other people, that might be something you were thinking about.” Chris doesn’t say a woman, he doesn’t need to. “I don’t want that to become a thing with your family like I know it is with my mom and me.”

Darren’s brows fury together and his eyes become wet. “Chris, can I tell you something without you getting… offended, I guess?”

That causes Chris to look up, one eyebrow quirking upwards. “When has that ever stopped you before?”

“This is a serious conversation. I can control myself through these.” Darren takes Chris’ hand and rubs his thumb across knuckles. “Your parents… the way they think? It makes me want to hurt them, like, really badly sometimes. Obviously, I grin and bear it. They’re really… for her to say that to you… I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry you had to grow up like that.”

Chris shakes his head, the old as time need to defend the very people who had at times made him feel like an outsider in his own family rising up in him like a tidal wave. An old leftover response from his younger years. “It’s not one specific thing anyone ever said, Dare. It was just… comments and a lot of tiny insinuations handed out one by one over the years. I know that I’m not exactly the son anyone envisions when they start a family. I guess I can’t blame them for having a few small disappointments about things that will never happen because of my sexuality. It’s human nature.” He ends with a weak one armed shrug.

“But you can have babies. That are yours. If you want. You shouldn’t have to live up to their expectations and I hate that you still feel the need to.”

“I don’t know if that’s ever going to be in the cards for me or not. It’s just not something I’ve ever given much thought to. I mean, my own childhood? It kinda sucked. I’m not about to wish that on anyone. I like kids, hell, I write entire books for kids, but that’s mainly because I still feel like one myself. Does that make sense? That I can be a certifiable, card carrying, old guy and still a kid at the same time?”

“You are not your parents, Chris. We don’t need to talk about this now, but I want to have kids one day in the future. But it’s not a game changer if the person I spend my life with isn’t interested.”

Darren’s hand lies sideways on his thigh, fingers curled in invitation and Chris takes it, threading them in between his own. “It seems that most of our big conversations happen when we’re not quite ready for them, just like almost everything else in my life. I’m starting to get sickeningly used to it to tell you the truth.”

“We deal with it as we go. That’s my favorite thing about this.”

“Your favorite thing is that we have no idea what we’re doing? Really?” He can’t help but shake his head and give Darren’s hand a tight squeeze and release.

“Uh huh. It makes me love you more when we’re under pressure of not knowing one damn thing. It’s our own personal fairy tale that’s never been written before.”

“Be careful, you’re talking to a writer. The unwritten is kind of like crack for us.”

“So write about us. I’ll actually read that one before the signing.”

Chris laughs and straightens up off of the side of the bed. A glance in the mirrored closet door tells him that his face is red and hopelessly swollen around his eyes. “Shit.”

“See how devastatingly gorgeous you are, Colfer? It breaks my heart on the daily.”

He catches Darren’s gaze in the mirror. “You are so full of it sometimes. “ He sighs and starts unbuttoning his tear-stained shirt to change before he has to go back out there and face Darren’s mom and brother again. He pulls a dresser drawer open and begins sifting through for another shirt. “So does your mom think I’m insane now or just dangerously allergic to the b-word?”

Darren laughs loudly. “I just literally said that you were allergic. We’re rubbing off of each other.” Darren winks and disappears into the bathroom and returns just as quickly with a cold washcloth. 

Chris smirks, pulling a soft, worn cotton tee shirt on over his head. “I’ll pass on the rubbing joke. But you’re going to have to give her some kind of explanation for you running in here after me or else she will think we just had a quickie with her and your brother in the apartment.”

“I’ll clear it up. Are you sure you’re okay?” Darren props his arms up on Chris’ shoulders and joins his own hands together behind Chris. 

Chris nods and pecks Darren softly on the cheek. “I’ll be fine. Please go out there and smooth things over while I try to make myself look a little less mentally unstable, okay?”

“We’re your family now, Colfer. It’s okay to look a little crazy in front of family.” Darren grins into a kiss. “Come find me whenever you feel comfortable.” He disappears.

Chris follows Darren to the door, shutting it with a soft click behind him. His forehead falls forward to rest against the cool wooden surface, and he sighs, shoulders and posture slumping with the breath.

Every new step that take together feels more uphill and disorientating than the last. But maybe that’s just how things were always going to be for the two of them. The way they met wasn’t normal, they way they were torn apart wasn’t. The way he came literally falling back into Darren’s life through a dressing room door into a land of glitter and rock and roll certainly wasn’t your everyday love story, yet they’re making it work.

Chris doesn’t dwell on any of this. The one thought that seems to linger in the back of his ever cycling, never rest mind as he makes his way on unsteady legs back towards the kitchen is that he thinks that maybe, someday, Darren would make a pretty good dad.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's almost 6 months without her. it took me 5 months to read through our google chat. i'll start organizing everything we ever wrote and edit it out of typos and start posting. i'm sorry it's taken so long; grief is fucking awful.
> 
> chapter: the one that happens when Darren gets a case of nostalgia.

Darren has the biggest, baddest, most powerful iPhone money could buy. So when a notification pops up to let him know that he’s nearly out of space, he scoffs loudly in his empty apartment and sets to start a reorganization project between his iCloud and the phone immediately, since there is absolutely no point to having a four thousand megapixel camera on a cell phone if he can’t use it to capture every special moment. It’s sunny and warm in the city; he should probably be outside. But then he’d want to take pictures of how beautiful everything around him is and he can’t do that until he cleans out what’s simply not needed. He plugs in and gets started.

As he’s watching the photos and videos flash across the screen within the import to his hard drive, it’s as though he’s watching a chronological movie of his whole life. Every single moment that he once thought to be important enough to document reflects for a split second, glaring back at his reflection he sees against the sunlight of the window behind him. 

Every person in every picture is familiar and a complete stranger, and holy shit they’ve all come so far since Darren’s start on the show. Baby faces and grins, the billions of photos from hanging out on tour, selfies that weren’t classified as such yet on duck boats and in front of royal living quarters and decked out in pointed black hats in Salem, and later at sushi restaurants and Disneyland and whoever’s house. Pictures of a baby-young Chris taking his first shot somewhere in the midwest, pictures of Ashley and Dianna posing in second-hand prom dresses they found in a vintage shop in Brooklyn, the Zurich sky, the Eiffel Tower. Dublin. A group photo dressed as Cheerios, Darren blowing out birthday candles with Chris grinning at him in the background before they were totally good again. A video of Chris doing Single Ladies on tour. Warbler rehearsal. 

Darren leans back in his chair and covers his wet eyes with one hand. He feels flushed and dizzy and all alone. Cooper appears and sits beneath Chris’ desk, staring at him through the glass top. 

“Okay, Coop. I’ll take you in a minute.” 

He navigates to his iTunes shamelessly and scrolls to the exact four minutes and fifty-seven seconds that he needs to hear right now. He crosses the room and turns on the bluetooth stereo system on the top of their dresser. He comes back to his computer and hits play. Lea’s voice floods the apartment, and he sits underneath the desk with Cooper, hugging the only thing that will let him right now. The dog grins and bears it, wagging his tail softly. Man’s best friend.  
Glee has given him so much opportunity, a chance at fateful and unconditional love, friends and lovers that have since turned into family. Even if no one has really reached out to Chris or Darren since they found each other again, they all have a special bond that only those on the inside looking out will ever understand. It’s a connection that will remain for the rest of their lives. 

He loses it at more than trophies on a shelf because God, that’s so fucking true. He wrote the damn song and he doesn’t realize the thing that he took away from the experience is the new shape of his career, his life, his heart. 

Darren sobs in the midst of pushing Cooper off of his lap, the dog glaring back at him before stalking away to spitefully pee on the rug near the laundry room and Darren can’t bring himself to care. Not now. 

He lets the song fade out as he climbs in bed and hugs a pillow, crying silent flowing tears that stream down the bridge of his nose as they fall to their death. Nearly three years to the day and it finally hits him. He feels like such a douchebag for not getting emotional at any point before right this second.  
Those days were sacred and irreplaceable but most of all, over. 

Shaking his head, he attempts to snap himself out of it once and for all. It’s not fair that he’s crying about it when it’s old news; it’s not fair that he’s sad about any of it because he would trade it all in a million times if he could still wind up with Chris in the end. 

He hears the door’s lock hitch; he hears footsteps in the foyer and a distinct, “Oh Coop! What’d you do? Dare?” 

He doesn’t trust his voice so he waits until Chris can figure out the fact that he’s right around the corner. Eventually, he’s welcomed by a tilted head and a very confused expression. 

“What happened?” 

Darren turns his neck to look at Chris. “Glee’s really over.” 

Chris looks startled and laughs but cuts himself off when Darren continues to stare, wet eyelashes and puffy red cheeks to boot. 

“Oh, honey. Did it just hit you?” Chris rushes around the back of the couch and gathers Darren in his arms. 

“I owe my whole life to that stupid show, Chris. My whole life.” 

“You would have found your career without Ryan Murphy.” 

“Would I have found you?” 

Chris lets out a larger than life sigh and curls his lips into the childish smirk Darren loves. “I would have still been in Clovis without Glee. I imagine I’d be the assistant manager of a Best Buy. So no, probably not.” 

Darren nods and kisses him, a brush of lips hardly enough to enunciate his gratitude for this perfect moment between the two of them. “I love you so much, Colfer.” 

He’s faced with a genuinely concerned, nervous look on Chris’ beautiful face. “Dare…” 

“Shhhh, just hold me.” 

“That, I can do.” Chris rubs a palm up and down Darren’s forearm, ignoring the fur babies to take care of his boyfriend. “I love you. But honestly, why did it just hit you? How? It’s been...” 

Darren shrugs. “I dunno. Just looking at pictures. Hey, what did you take from set?” 

Chris giggles. “Oh. I don’t remember.” 

“Shut up. Of course you remember.” Darren smiles and pats the couch under them. 

“Fine.” Chris combs through Darren’s curls and looks out into space as he thinks. “I took… the hippo broach, a pair of pants from the last episode, Pavarotti’s bedazzled pencil box casket, because I actually spent time and effort on that. Oh, and I got you.” 

“Me?” 

“I took miniscule little things that, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing. Because the prize I got was so much better than your couch or Cory’s jersey, or Santana’s Cheerio skirt.” Chris nuzzles Darren’s neck. “What was the line? We didn’t need to win any stupid show choir competition singing a break up song. Because we won so much more than that. What’s the line!” 

Darren grins and straightens his posture, slipping into Blaine one last time. “We did win. We got each other out of this. That’s better than any trophy, don’t you think?” 

“I ask you to walk the dog once while I’m gone, maybe pick up some milk while you’re on your way home, and nothing. But you can remember one measly line from like, your fourth episode ever.” 

“Certain important things stick. When I was memorizing that script, I saw so many… I thought about you a lot back then.” 

“And now?” 

“And now.” Darren shrugs his way into a smirky little kiss that turns quickly into so much more.


End file.
